Fear No Darkness
by The Yuggster
Summary: When elfling Legolas nearly dies in an apparent accident, his father sends him to Rivendell to be raised. But when the horrible secret surrounding the accident begins to come to light, will he be able to face the darkness and defeat it? WIP.
1. Prologue: An Enemy Returns

_Title_: Fear No Darkness

_Author_: Yuggster

_Rating_: T (for action/violence and some scary moments)

_Disclaimer_: _Lord of the Rings_ does not belong to me. It belongs to that guy...you know, the one over there rolling in his grave as I write this.  
Summary: When Legolas was an elfling he was nearly killed in what was thought to be a horrible accident. His father sent him to Rivendell to heal and grow away from the Shadow, but the threat within Mirkwood was not eliminated. Will the truth be discovered before the prince succumbs to the darkness? No slash.

_Warning_: This story contains one instance of physical abuse (a cuff to the head) of a child (elfling). That is the only one, but there are also instances of verbal abuse (mostly in the form of threats) and basic mistreatment. It's only in the first few chapters (though repercussions continue throughout the story), but I wanted to warn you in case it would bother you. And before you ask, it's not Thranduil.

_Spoilers_: Well, in the third part there will be spoilers for _Beginnings. _You don't have to read that one first, though, as the first two parts take place before that story. In _Beginnings_ there was mention that Legolas had been injured in an accident as an elfling and was sent to Rivendell to heal, and that he had stayed there to grow up. Basically, the first two parts of this story are about the references made in _Beginnings_, while the three takes place a few months after.

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Prologue: An Enemy Returns

_Fall, 3945 TA_

Estel bit back a cry of pain as he was roughly shoved down beside Legolas. The elf quickly put an arm around the young human as though to protect him, glaring up at their captors.

"What do you want with us?" Legolas demanded.

They had finally convinced Lord Elrond to let the two of them go out on a short hunting trip without Elladan and Elrohir. Not three hours out from Rivendell they had been attacked by hooded and masked men, or elves, and taken prisoner.

One of their captors gave a low laugh. "You will soon see, Prince."

Estel noticed that Legolas looked startled. "That voice..." the elf murmured, his brow furrowing.

The human cried out involuntarily as someone grabbed his injured leg, roughly exposing his wound and cleaning it with a rag.

"Leave him alone!" Legolas cried, lunging forward to push the offending being away, only to be shoved roughly back against the wall. "Who are you?"

Estel winced as their captor backhanded the prince. "No questions," he growled. "But so you understand..."

The hooded being shoved back his hood, and Estel was startled to see an elf.

But if he was startled, it was nothing compared to the shock on Legolas' face.

"It cannot be..." the prince whispered.

_

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	2. I: A Warning Ignored

_AN: __In this part, Legolas' age is roughly equivalent to a five-year-old human. Relfían would be about eight, and Ceretín nine._

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**Part One: A Light is Shadowed**

_Late Summer, 2489 TA_

Chapter One: A Warning Ignored

_Isáwien, Queen of Once-Great Greenwood, was not skilled with a blade yet she wielded it nonetheless._

_Her guards had been struck down, but the she-elf was not quite defenseless, particularly when the life of her youngest child, Legolas, was at stake._

_The spider advanced. On all eight legs it was as tall as an elf, the bright green markings on its sides standing out in the twilit darkness. On its four hind legs it was a terrifying height, towering over the she-elf and casting a shadow about the entire clearing._

"_You cannot have him," the queen declared, ignoring the numerous cuts she had already endured._

_The spider hissed at the queen, cursing at her in its own foul tongue as it side-stepped to find its prize._

_The Great Spider would not rest unless it took a certain elfling with it for dinner. An elfling whose spirit was so bright that every foul creature in Mirkwood could sense it the moment the elfling left the walls of the palace._

_Isáwien lunged for the spider, aiming for its left eye. She cried out in pain as one of its massive legs tossed her aside. She scrambled to her feet, ready to launch an attack from behind when the beast turned toward her son._

_She screamed in anger, running at the spider though her strength was failing._

_Impatient, the spider turned on the queen, snatching her up in its forelegs to deliver the deadly bite._

_It was just what Isáwien was waiting for. As the beast brought her to its horrible fangs she struck out one last time, burying her sword deep in its foul head._

_Black blood oozed out, and she cried out in pain as the creature's fangs pierced her arm as it jerked in its death-throes._

_She pulled away and landed roughly on the ground, gasping for breath and holding her injured arm close. Her consciousness was quickly fading, the paralysis that would destroy her body taking hold._

_She had the strength left for one final thought. "Thranduil...protect our son."_

The king sat up, gasping for breath. He ran one hand over his face, cursing the memories that were etched in stone in his mind.

Ten years. Ten years since the queen had been killed by a spider, yet he had only had dreams this vivid just after her death.

And yet three weeks ago, with the last anniversary of Isáwien's death, he had begun to have this same dream every night.

And every night it ended the same.

_Thranduil...protect our son_.

He walked to the balcony and threw the doors open, inhaling deeply the fresh scent of morning. It was still too early for the sun to be seen, but he could see servants and other elves bustling about in the courtyard preparing for a new day's tasks. Yet he barely noticed the elves of his kingdom as his thoughts turned inward, considering his wife's words in his dream.

Protect their son?

He had spent his years as king trying to safeguard Mirkwood for his people and his children...of course he was going to protect his son.

But Thranduil shivered as cold fingers seemed to run up his spine, and he knew the message of the dream was something more.

Only their two youngest children had been born after the Shadow fell on Greenwood.When Tinlith was born she had been sent to Lothlorien to live with distant kin, out of the reach of the Shadow. Isáwien had wanted to do something similar with Legolas; to send him to Rivendell to be raised by Lord Elrond.

Thranduil was reluctant to do so, and had argued that enough time had passed since the Shadow fell over Greenwood that they could protect their son enough within the palace walls. Though Isáwien had not agreed, she had gone along with his decision.

Then, ten years ago Isáwien had taken Legolas, accompanied by a contingent of guards, to visit some other elflings in the small village half a day's journey away. They had been attacked by spiders, and Isáwien herself had fought off the last spider: a Great Spider the likes of which had not been seen in centuries. She had died from the venom, but Legolas had been found unharmed, hidden beneath a cloak cast off by one of the guards.

The prince had not seen much of the battle, hidden as he was, but he had known his mother was dead.

It had taken nearly two years, but Legolas had recovered from the tragedy that struck so early in his life and regained his cheerful disposition, though he still had a few sad moments when he remembered his mother.

Whether he knew she had sacrificed herself to save him, though, Thranduil wasn't sure.

And yet, that danger was not enough to convince Thranduil to send Legolas away. Instead he had issued a decree that the young prince was never to leave the palace walls until he came of age and began his warrior training. Surely he would be safe if he never strayed from the protective power of the elven stronghold.

And for ten years it had worked.

The king smiled at the thought of his growing son. Many in the palace had remarked about the strong resemblance Legolas bore to his father. They shared the same coloring and similar features, though Thranduil was discovering that Legolas had his precious mother's spirit. At twenty-four, Legolas was just beginning to learn his letters and numbers and would often sit on his father's lap and try to point them out in the documents the king was going through.

Those were precious moments to Thranduil...moments he hadn't been able to share with his older sons.

Sighing wearily as the thought of paperwork brought to mind his responsibilities for the day, he quickly erased all thought of his dream from his mind and threw his robe around his shoulders. Perhaps if he took care of reading over that trade negotiation now he would have time to breakfast with his family.

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"Legolas! Sit still!"

The little elf wriggled, making a face as his nurse ran the brush through his hair. "But it hurts," he whimpered, wondering why his nurse always managed to pull his hair when his father and his sisters never did.

"Well, unless you want to look like a dirty little orc at the breakfast table you will stop squirming," Amarthwen declared, no trace of humor in her voice. "If you do not sit still I will pull all of your hair out and leave you bald," she said sharply, putting one hand on Legolas' shoulder and pressing down.

The prince complied meekly, wincing as she managed to pull out half the hair in his head (or so it felt), and she still wasn't satisfied.

"There. That is done," Amarthwen sighed. "Your father will be at breakfast, so try not to show him how ill-mannered you are today."

Legolas sighed. He was not a bad elfling, he didn't think. But Amarthwen was constantly finding things he did wrong...she was worse than Belegdur sometimes! And if he got just a little bit dirty she called him a dirty little orc, which was not nice at all.

"May I go now?" he asked politely.

The nurse grunted and waved him away. Legolas stood up excitedly and bolted out the door, ignoring her cries to him to slow down. Maybe if he behaved extra good Ada would say he didn't need a nurse anymore...he was big enough now, wasn't he? And if his sister Luni could help him, maybe then Amarthwen could go back to the village like she was always saying she wanted to.

He decided he had to talk to Ada about this. Right after breakfast, of course.

"And there is the little one!" someone shouted when he entered the dining room, and in a moment he found himself picked up around the waist and hoisted onto a pair of broad shoulders.

"Good morning, Gilfaroth," Legolas giggled as his brother-in-law carried him over to the breakfast table.

"Look what I caught, Beleg!" Gilfaroth announced to the second-born prince.

Belegdur glanced up, a slight smile creeping onto his face. "So Ada is stocking the pond with elflings now, is he?" the blonde elf asked.

"Gilfaroth!" a she-elf swooped in, lifting Legolas easily off her husband's shoulders. "Do be careful...he could have fallen!"

"I was being careful, Luni," Gilfaroth replied, planting a kiss on the she-elf's cheek. "See? Not even a strand of hair out of place."

Legolas smiled up at his biggest sister. The dark-haired, brown-eyed she-elf had been like a mother to him ever since Naneth had died, even though he still couldn't quite say her name (Luinlothiel was quite the mouthful for an elfling). "Morning, Luni," he said brightly.

Luinlothiel pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Has anyone seen Ada yet?" she asked, taking a seat next to Legolas.

"He was looking over those trade agreements," Belegdur spoke up. "He said he would try to make time for breakfast this morning."

Gilfaroth smiled at Legolas, sitting down across from his wife. "The guard is changing today," he said. "Do you know who are coming in?"

Eyes wide, Legolas could only shake his head.

"Haudhel and Eithellim."

Legolas' smile took up his entire face. "You mean Relfían and Ceretín are coming?"

The dark-haired elf nodded, laughing to himself. Relfían and Ceretín, sons of two of the royal guard, were two of the only elflings close to Legolas' age, and even though Relfían was fifteen years Legolas' elder and Ceretín twenty, both were extremely close to the little prince.

At that moment, Thranduil entered. He smiled warmly at his family, taking a seat on the other side of Legolas as the servants brought the breakfast dishes forward. "Good morning, Legolas," the king said to his youngest. "Did you sleep well?"

"Aye...I dreamt that Gilfaroth's horse learned to talk and saved an elfling from an ugly spider!"

Thranduil raised one eyebrow, his gaze turning to his son-in-law who usually took charge of Legolas' bedtime stories.

Gilfaroth pretended to ignore the king, engrossing himself in a conversation with Belegdur.

"Ada?"

The king turned to the small elfling beside him. "Yes, Legolas?"

"Can I play with Relfían and Ceretín when they come?"

Thranduil again glanced up at his son-in-law. "I suppose so...provided you've finished your studies."

Legolas smiled happily, applying himself to the bowl of porridge his sister placed before him.

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Thranduil had felt a small shiver run up his spine when Legolas asked about being allowed to play with his friends. He did not know why, though. Even though Relfían and Ceretín were older they were always careful and never led the younger elfling into danger. Their fathers had first arranged the friendship under the belief that the pair would eventually become royal guards and might be assigned to the prince, but none had expected the true friendship that had arisen between the three.

And yet...somehow he knew this feeling was connected with his dream. He brusquely shoved it aside, smiling at a story the elfling was telling.

It was only a dream, nothing more.

_

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_AN: Great Spiders, as I wrote them, first made their appearance in chapter eight of _Beginnings_. You can check that story for my description...they're not exactly Tolkien, though._


	3. I: The Promise of Adventure

_Remember: Legolas is five, Ceretín nine, and Relfían ten (equivalently)._

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Chapter Two: The Promise of Adventure

"Legolas!"

The elfling grinned broadly as two young elves pulled away from the arriving contingent and ran towards him.

Like their fathers (who were brothers), both had dark hair and eyes. While Ceretín was the older at forty-four, Relfían (who was thirty-eight) was the taller by an inch or so—which made him a bit clumsy at times.

"How are you?" Relfían asked enthusiastically, dropping to one knee more to be closer to eye level with his friend than out of formal decorum.

"I am well," the prince replied with a grin.

"Legolas!" Ceretín called, running back out to the lawn. "Watch this!" With some difficulty, the older elfling managed to do a handstand and hold it for a few seconds before falling onto his back. With a laugh Relfían was soon on top of him, and the pair wrestled for a moment in the grass.

Running down to join them, Legolas grabbed Ceretín about the neck and clung to his back, giggling when the older elfling pretended to try to shake him off.

"Oh," Relfían sighed, falling to his back and laying in the grass, "I am so glad we are finally here."

"The village is no fun at all," Ceretín agreed, letting Legolas down so they could lie beside Relfían. "We are not allowed to go anywhere alone anymore. My Ada says the forest has grown too dangerous."

Legolas thought about this for a moment. "Ada says the palace is not always safe," he ventured.

"Yeah, but the palace so _big_!" Ceretín exclaimed. "Even if we have to stay inside it is still bigger than the village."

Relfían sighed again, loudly, making Legolas giggle. "Ceretín and I saw the perfect climbing tree when we were coming in," he commented. "We should climb it."

The prince frowned sadly. "I do not know how," he replied. It was true, there wasn't any tree within the grounds that he could climb.

"We'll teach you," Ceretín decided. "It's just outside the walls...we'll be perfectly safe out there...if Relfían remembers not to fall out of the tree!"

The younger elf growled playfully and attacked his cousin, and soon all three elflings were tussling on the grass.

Relfían grabbed a handful of grass and proceeded to stuff it down Ceretín's shirt, leaving the older elfling to gain "retribution" by recruiting Legolas to put a handful of dirt in Relfían's hair. Legolas hesitated, his nurse's almost constant criticism that he was always too dirty (when he tried his hardest to keep clean) echoing in his mind.

"Legolas!" Ceretín shouted as Relfían tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

He immediately forgot about his nurse's words, grabbing a handful of dirt and grass to aid Ceretín in his retriubtion.

Poor Relfían never stood a chance.

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Thranduil smiled quietly as he watched his youngest son playing with his friends. Beside him someone gave a rather opinionated snort. "Yes, Belegdur?" he asked with an air of patience.

"Do you not think he should be acting more...appropriately?" the prince asked his father. "He is a prince...he should not be allowed to roll around in the grass like a common vagabond."

"Let him be young, Belegdur," Thranduil said. "He will have time enough to grown up in years to come."

The prince nodded in reluctant agreement, turning from the window to face the papers on his father's desk. "Shall I run this trade agreement down to Aranion?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," the king replied, tearing his gaze away from his youngest son back to his study. "The delegates should be arriving in a few days...make sure that their guest quarters are properly prepared."

Belegdur tapped the stack of papers on the edge of the desk to straighten them and nodded again. "Yes, Adar."

The prince opened the door to the study and nearly ran into the elf standing on the other side. "Pardon me, Thilator," he said smoothly, stepping aside to let the older elf into the room.

Dark-haired with pale blue eyes, Thilator nodded and smiled briefly. "May I have a word with you, My Lord?" he asked Thranduil.

The king's eyes narrowed slightly. Thilator was Legolas' tutor...what could he want? "Of course," Thranduil gestured at the empty chair in front of his desk and studied the elf carefully. Had he been more paranoid he might have thought the tutor was listening at the door...but that was a ridiculous thought for an elf of his age and status. "Is something wrong?"

Thilator sighed regretfully. "Truly, Highness, I do not know. I am concerned about your son."

Thranduil held in a rather un-kingly gasp. "Why?" he asked, a bit shortly.

In reply the tutor pulled a small roll of parchment out of his tunic. "Today I assigned him a few letters of the alphabet to copy, to practice his penmanship," he explained, unrolling the parchment.

The king leaned forward and studied the paper, his brow furrowing. The first few lines on the parchment were fairly straight and legible, but toward the end the letters grew more and more sloppy until they were not even recognizable. "And you say he wrote this?"

Thilator nodded. "I have been giving him assignments like this for the past few weeks, but he shows no improvement. In fact, he has been downright rebellious and refuses to do the assignment unless I force him. I left the room here," he added, pointing to the place where the letters began to grow sloppy, "and when I returned he told me he had filled up the rest of the parchment."

"I see," the king said wearily. Thilator was quiet, waiting for the king's decision. "His friends have just arrived," Thranduil finally said. "Perhaps he was merely excited to greet them."

Thilator frowned and looked as though he wanted to argue, but held his tongue.

"If he is still this inattentive to his lessons in a few days I will speak with him," the king concluded.

The tutor stood and bowed. "I am sorry to have brought you this news."

Thranduil waved away the tutor's apology. "Thank you for bringing this to light. My son should not take his studies so lightly."

Thilator bowed again, and exited.

The king sighed, standing and walking back to the window. The elflings were no longer in sight, which probably meant they were "exploring" some hall of the castle. He frowned when he thought of the tutor's report...Legolas had always seemed to eager to share what he had learned that day.

He had trouble picturing his youngest son rebelling against his tutor. Surely there must be something else going on.

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Later that night, nearly exhausted from his afternoon with his friends, Legolas lay curled up in bed in a miserable ball waiting for his brother-in-law. Gilfaroth had taken up telling the elfling's bedtime story a few months ago, when it became apparent that his nurse was somewhat less than imaginative.

He had quickly discovered that Gilfaroth did not like the conventional stories and resorted to making up his own. The stories were important not so much for the comfort they provided the elfling, but because Legolas was still too young to have full control over his dreams.Hearing a story before going to sleep would help him learn that control as he would try to picture the story as he fell asleep, and then thestory would naturally carry over into his dreams.

The door to his room opened and Legolas heard Gilfaroth crossing and felt the bed shift as the dark-haired elf sat down.

"Legolas?" he called quietly, placing a hand on the elfling's arm. "Are you all right?"

The prince nodded, sniffing back a tear that threatened to leak out. Gilfaroth gently pulled on his arm, rolling him over onto his back to look at him. "Is something wrong?" the elf asked, concern coloring his features.

Legolas knew what he looked like. His face was still a little red, and as Gilfaroth gently felt his forehead for a fever one tear leaked out of his eye. His nurse had said nothing was wrong with him, but he still felt miserable.

Amarthwen had drawn his bath tonight, as usual, only this time she had made the water too hot. She'd made it so hot that it hurt, and she wouldn't let him have cooler water.

But that wasn't what was wrong. Amarthwen hadn't been very nice because he'd been dirty from playing with his friends, and had said some very mean things. But when she saw he was upset she told him it was a silly thing to get upset about, and that he would be a baby if he told anyone about it.

"Is something wrong?" Gilfaroth asked again, having gotten no answer from the elfling.

"N-no," Legolas finally said, rubbing his face with his sleeve.

They were just names, right? He would not really turn into a dirty little orc if he didn't keep clean...was he?

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The next morning, Legolas had regained some of his happy spirit as he sat copying letters down on a parchment. His mind wandered as he did so—he'd been stuck copying letters for years, it seemed (even though Thilator hadn't been teaching him that long, only a few months). And every day it was the same thing, even though his letters looked all right to him.

"Are you finished?" Thilator asked kindly, lifting the parchment away. The tutor smiled at what he saw, a pleased expression on his face. "These are very nice."

Legolas brightened. "Can I learn words now?" he asked hopefully. He could write all his letters...maybe Thilator would finally teach him some words and he could really have something to show Ada.

"Not yet," the tutor said smoothly. "You need to work on your letters more."

The prince slumped just slightly and frowned. Why could he not at least try?

"Now," Thilator took down the large history volume, opening it up to the marked page, "what are you and your friends doing today?"

Legolas beamed. "Ceretín and Relfían said they knew a good tree we could climb."

Thilator glanced up. "I did not think there was any such tree on the palace grounds."

"No," the prince shook his head. "The tree is just outside, right up against the walls. They said we could go that far and still be safe."

The tutor nodded. "And do you know how to climb?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head again, wondering why Thilator was asking so many questions. "They're going to teach me," he said brightly.

Thilator smiled. "That is good," he commented, turning his focus back to the book. "Let me see...what did we read yesterday? Ah, yes..."

He waited patiently while Thilator skimmed the book. "Well," the tutor said, "it seems we are a bit ahead in here, so I suppose we could skip the history lesson for today."

With a twinkle in his eye, Thilator replaced the heavy volume on its shelf. "Unless you wish to stay and write more letters, I would suggest you go find your friends."

Legolas beamed and jumped up, pausing just long enough to thank his tutor before he was out the door to find his friends and their promised adventure.

_

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	4. I: Into Darkness

_AN: In all seriousness I debated for hours whether or not to put a warning up before this chapter (and what to say if I did). I finally decided better safe than sorry, so I will say in warning that this chapter contains abuse. There is only one instance of physical abuse (a cuff to the head), but basically an elf does a very cruel thing to an elfling (you might be able to guess what's coming given previous events in this story and the preview posted at the end of _Beginnings).

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Chapter Three: Into Darkness 

Beaming brightly, Legolas stepped out into the pale light of the courtyard. The sky, or what could be seen of it, was overcast but it was still bright enough to be a pleasant day.

He spotted his friends sitting near the bottom of the steps, absorbed in a conversation, but they looked up when Legolas stepped out.

"We thought you wouldn't be done for a while," Relfían commented, scrambling to his feet.

"Thilator said we didn't need to read about history today," Legolas explained, sitting on one of the steps happily.

"Come on!" Ceretín exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing Legolas by the hand. "We'll show you the climbing tree."

Legolas happily followed his friends, until they approached the gates to the palace. He stopped, pulling back on Ceretín's hand and looking up at both of them with a serious look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Ceretín asked.

"I'm not allowed to go past the gates."

"But the tree is just over there," Relfían said, pulling Legolas to the side and pointing at a tree, younger than the ones around it,the lowest branches barely higher than an elf's head. "It's only a stone's throw from the gate."

"But Ada said..."

"The guards are right there," Relfían reasoned, though Ceretín had a slightly disapproving frown on his face.

"Perhaps we should go back," Ceretín suggested. Relfían's face fell.

Legolas felt bad when he saw how disappointed his friends were. He couldn't disobey Ada,but maybe since it was so close it wouldn't count—and he was getting to be a big elfling, wasn't he?

"Maybe we could go...just for a little while?" he said quietly, part of his stomach twisting when he thought about disobeying Ada.

Relfían's face lit up, though Ceretín looked just a little more uncertain. "Come on!" the younger cousin declared, taking Legolas' hand and running out the gates, smiling at the guards as they did.

The prince noticed the guards started to move forward to stop them, but hesitated when they saw they were only going as far as the tree on the opposite side of the clearing from the main path. It must be all right, he reasoned. Wouldn't the guards stop him if he were doing anything wrong? Somehow he wasn't quite convinced, but tried to push that feeling away and just enjoy his time with his friends.

Laughing, Relfían easily pulled himself up into the tree, leaning over the lowest branch and extending his hands down. "Grab my hands," he called to the prince. "I'll help you up."

Ceretín lifted Legolas from behind just enough so he could reach Relfían's hands, and together they pushed and pulled Legolas up onto the first branch.

He scooted back and sat against the trunk with a happy sigh, giggling as Relfían darted up even higher in the branches. Ceretín soon joined him, and in a moment the cousins were playing a rather noisy game of some sort up in the tree.

The tree seemed to whisper to him, and he had the oddest sense that it was saying something. His brothers had always told him the trees could talk, so maybe he was finally learning how to listen. He couldn't understand the tree, but it seemed happy to see him.

"Legolas!" Relfían called. "Come on, you can see everything!"

"I don't know," Ceretín said cautiously. "Maybe we should wait a bit."

The younger elfling shrugged, nimbly swinging down to sit on the lowest branch with Legolas. The prince was content with this—he wasn't exactly afraid, but he didn't relish the idea of climbing up so high just yet.

"You know, my ada told me that sometimes warriors sleep in the trees," Relfían commented.

"Don't they fall off?" Legolas asked, wide-eyed.

"When you get older you learn how to keep from falling out of trees," Ceretín explained importantly. "Like this," he added, standing up with his arms straight out for balance. He walked down to the edge of the branch, stopping just where it shook a little too much for his weight, and walked back. "You have to balance. My ada said he'd teach me how to keep from falling out of trees."

Legolas giggled. Imitating Ceretín, he shakily stood up and stuck his arms out parallel to the ground. He took a timid step forward, smiling when he realized he could balance in the tree.

"I think you should sit back down," Ceretín said worriedly. "You might fall."

"Yeah, and then you might get hurt," Relfían said, taking a timid step forward, but afraid to reach for the younger elfling lest he knock him off-balance.

"I can do it," Legolas declared, carefully shuffling to turn around. He'd taken a few steps away from the trunk just out of reach of his friends. His knees were wobbling, and he suddenly decided that Ceretín's suggestion was a good idea after all. He carefully crouched down, grabbing at the branch and slipping his feet out from under him to sit down.

Fate or some other force seemed to be conspiring against the little prince, though, for at that moment a furious, brown-eyed elf-prince came storming out of the gate.

"Legolas!" Belegdur yelled angrily, looking down the path and consequently not noticing the elflings in the tree. "Come here this moment!"

The elfling squeaked in shock, his feet suddenly slipping too far, and in one awful moment he lost control and grabbed futilely at the branch before losing his grip and dropping to the ground below.

He could hear Relfían and Ceretín screaming, but suddenly everything was overpowered by a sharp pain in his left arm as he landed. He curled up, whimpering, his whole body throbbing with the impact.

"Legolas!" Ceretín landed beside the young elfling, his face twisted in worry. Relfían stumbled to the ground beside him, losing his balance as he landed and sitting down hard.

The prince whimpered, tears leaking out of his eyes.

A pair of larger knees appeared in his vision, and his brother was gently turning him over onto his back. "Legolas?" Belegdur asked softly. "I'm sorry...I didn't see you in the tree."

"Is he hurt?" Relfían asked worriedly.

"I believe so," the elf said quietly, his eyes sad. "Did you hit your head?"

The little elfling managed to mouth a shaky "no" and grabbed the sleeve of his brother's tunic with his right hand.

Belegdur noticed the way his brother was carefully cradling his arm. "Your arm?" he asked, and Legolas tearfully nodded. "It might be broken," the older prince explained to Relfían and Ceretín, "I will take him to the healers'."

Legolas whimpered again as his brother very gently picked him up, careful not to jostle his arm. The cousins had fallen quiet, and Belegdur's face was a mask of guilt. "You shouldn't have left the grounds," the older prince said gently, speeding toward the palace. "If I had known where you were...I am so sorry."

He couldn't answer, so he buried his face in his brother's tunic, hot tears burning in his eyes. Sometimes Belegdur did get angry with him, but in his heart he knew the older elf would never mean for him to get hurt, just like he knew Ada would never hurt him.

"Prince Belegdur?"

Legolas' eyes opened in panic, though his face was still hidden.

"Amarthwen," Belegdur smoothly greeted the nurse.

"What happened?"

"He had a bit of a fall," the prince explained. "I'm taking him to the healers."

"There's no need for you to do that," Amarthwen said gently. "I'll take him, and you can get back to your duties."

Legolas felt his brother hesitate. He wanted desperately to scream "no," to beg his brother to take care of him. But then again, he'd always been told that duty had to come first, no matter what else you wanted to do.

"Thank you, Amarthwen," Belegdur said gratefully, and Legolas was shifted over to his nurse's arms. "I will be by later to check on you, Legolas."

His eyes closed again, Legolas only nodded.

Belegdur's footsteps retreated down the hall, and the youngest prince and his nurse were left alone.

Amarthwen dumped Legolas onto his feet, grabbing him by his uninjured wrist and pulling him into a side room.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed, shoving his wrist away and glowering down at him. "Going outside the walls? You're not allowed."

Legolas sniffed, rubbing his eye and carefully holding his left arm close to his chest. "They were teaching me to climb a tree."

"I don't care what they were doing," Amarthwen said sharply. "Are you really so stupid as to disobey your father?"

The elfling looked down, tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

Amarthwen cuffed him on the side of the head, and he cried out. He stared up at her in shock, blue eyes wide. She'd never struck him before.

"I asked you a question," Amarthwen growled.

"I'm s-sorry," he whispered.

Growling something under her breath, Amarthwen grabbed his uninjured wrist and dragged him from the room, pulling him down the halls into the lower levels of the palace. "Do you know what your father does to elflings who disobey him?" she asked tauntingly. "He locks them in his dungeons. But since you're such a _good_ little elfling I suppose you didn't know that."

The prince pulled back as hard as he could, trying to twist out of Amarthwen's grip. She just tugged even harder, nearly pulling him off his feet. He didn't know what she was talking about, but he was starting to get scared.

Amarthwen marched through several corridors, deeper and deeper under the palace until she came to the level she wanted. A solitary cell stood open, the torch in the opposite wall flickering brightly. Without a word she shoved Legolas inside, taking the torch from its bracket to explore the cell.

Something hissed in the corner, and elfing and elf-maid turned to see a spider crouched there. Legolas backed up awkwardly, but Amarthwen didn't seem to care.

Her hand fell heavily on his shoulder, fingernails digging into his skin. "I wouldn't be surprised if staying down here did turn you into a filthy little orc," she whispered. "Or at least if it made you father think you were one and send you out to live with the rest of the orcs."

Amarthwen pulled him around to look down into his eyes. "Do you know what orcs do to elflings?" she asked, a touch of dark glee in her voice. "They cook them and eat them for dinner. Though, since you're a _prince _I suppose they'd think of something better for you."

Legolas shivered, trying to twist out of her grip. The light from the torch turned Amarthwen's pale gold hair a sort of burnt orange, and her ice-blue eyes seemed to have an eerie dark glow to them.

"I'll t-tell Ada," he stammered.

"He won't believe you," she snarled, her fingernails digging in even deeper, "But if you do tell there won't be enough left of you for the orcs to find...I'll kill you myself."

Amarthwen viciously shoved Legolas away, and he stumbled and fell against one of the walls. She glared down at him for a moment more, then slammed the door shut with a clang, retreating down the hall and taking the torch with her.

She had left him alone in the darkness.

Legolas curled up into as small a ball as possible against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the darkness. His whole body ached, but his head and arm were the worst.

He didn't think his arm was broken—at least, it wasn't bent at an odd angle like Ceretín's had been when he broke his last year. But it hurt...more than anything he'd ever felt.

Legolas started when he heard the hissing from the corner. In all his misery he had forgotten about the spider...it was only the size of a half-grown cat, but it was obviously angry.

He was worried it might be a baby spider, since it was nowhere near the size of the spiders Gilfaroth had told him stories about. What would happen if the mother spider came back?

He curled up even tighter, his chest hitching in fear as he heard legs skittering his direction._

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__Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?_

_I know, it's a cliffie. I'd laugh maniacally, but I'm afraid that would just give away my hiding place._

To everyone who guessed that Amarthwen was going to be bad: Yes. Yes she is. Very bad.

_I also know this doesn't quite fit the definition of accident, but I hope the next two chapters will make it clear why everyone thought it was an accident (and therefore why I've called it an accident in other stories as well as the summary)._


	5. I: Missing

_AN: MWAHAHAHAHA!_

_(Ahem) Pardon me. On to chapter four._

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Chapter Four:Missing

The sound of the spider's legs drew closer, and Legolas shivered as he felt it touch his leg. He kicked out, and heard the spider skitter away, only to return a moment later.

Its horrible legs were crawling on him now, and he stifled a sob of fear as the spider poked and prodded him, hissing to itself in nonsensical sounds.

He pushed it away with his good arm, scrambling up to a sitting position and back into a corner. The spider came closer, its feet ticking against the floor of the cell with every step.

Legolas felt along the wall, desperately hoping to find a loose stone. The dungeons had originally been one long cavern, but they had been built up and separated into cells, and occasionally some of the stones would break loose. Many rooms in the palace were like this, and Legolas had found a good hiding place to keep things away from his nurse behind such a stone under his bed.

One stone finally slid away from his grasp, and he fumbled to pick it up. It was large and heavy, almost too big for him to hold but he felt better having a weapon.

As he felt the spider's legs again brush his feet, he threw the stone as hard as he could in the direction he guessed its body to be. He heard it hit something, and the spider shrieked and pulled back, hissing and gurgling as it retreated.

The elfling shakily stood up and took a small step forward. He could hear the spider talking to itself in some corner but didn't know where it was. All he knew was that the door was somewhere on the other wall, and that maybe if he could get to it he might be able call out loud enough that someone would hear him to rescue him.

He hurried toward the door, but in the darkness missed the uneven crack in the floor. One foot caught against it and he fell headlong, throwing his arms out in front of him to break his fall.

He felt, more than heard, a sickening crack in his left arm, then the pain overwhelmed him and he blacked out.

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The king had just left his councilors with the revised treaty when he caught sight of his son pacing up and down one of the halls. Thranduil was used to watching Belegdur pace, as the prince often did so when he was concentrating, but this time there seemed to be something more to his son's demeanor.

"Belegdur?" Thranduil asked quietly, not wishing to startle the younger elf.

The prince started anyway, his gaze lowering when he saw who was addressing him. "Hello, Adar," he mumbled.

"What is wrong?" the king asked, wondering why his son was pacing in front of the healers' ward.

"I can't find Legolas," Belegdur replied.

Thranduil frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He isn't in here," the prince explained, nodding to the door that led to the healers' domain.

"Should he be?"

The younger elf hesitated, his head dropping. "He was hurt, Adar," Belegdur finally said, so softly that his father could hardly hear him.

The king's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"Thilator told me that Legolas and his friends were planning to go play in the forest today, despite the rules that Legolas is not allowed outside the palace walls."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed in anger, which was soon replaced with worry when he saw that his son had more to say. "Belegdur?"

"Ada," Belegdur blurted, using the less formal name for the first time in centuries, "they were only a stone's throw from the wall, in one of the younger trees. The guards were close enough to hear their conversation without straining. They were still in the clearing before the gate."

Wordlessly Thranduil placed his hands on Belegdur's shoulders, encouraging the prince to speak.

"I shouted, Ada," Belegdur confessed softly. "I shouted for him and scared him—I did not even see him!—and he fell out of the tree."

Thranduil's grip on his son's shoulders tightened unconsciously. "He was hurt?"

Belegdur nodded. "I was taking him to the healers, but Amarthwen stopped me and said she'd take him so I could attend to my duties." At this, Belegdur broke away from his father and buried his face in his hands. "If I had taken him...if I had skipped my duties for one afternoon..."

With a sigh Thranduil gently put a hand on his son's shoulder. His mind was still reeling with Belegdur's confession, and the implications of what he had done. They would have to face that later, but for now he had to find his youngest son. "How long ago did this happen?"

"No more than two hours," Belegdur replied.

"Perhaps the healers released him," the king suggested. "Was it a minor injury?"

"His arm hurt, but I do not believe he was hurt anywhere else. At least, he told me he was not."

Thranduil nodded, pulling his son away from the ward. "Then let us go find Amarthwen...she must know where he is."

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The prince stayed a few steps behind his father as Thranduil knocked on the door to the youngest prince's chamber. He didn't know how Legolas would react to seeing him again, yet he had to know that his brother was all right. He could deal with any anger or hurt later.

A red-eyed Amarthwen opened the door, and upon seeing Thranduil immediately collapsed against the doorway with one hand over her eyes and tears running down her cheeks.

Fear gripped Belegdur's heart as his father gently maneuvered the nurse to a nearby chair and made her sit. He hesitantly entered the room and looked around. Legolas was nowhere to be found.

"My Lord," Amarthwen sobbed. "I hoped to find him before you came...I throw myself upon your mercy!" Amarthwen tumbled from her chair onto her knees, grasping at the hem of the king's robes.

"Amarthwen," Thranduil gently dislodged the agitated nurse and motioned for her to sit. "What happened to my son?"

The nurse cast a glance at Belegdur and immediately her face screwed up as though she was going to weep. "Prince Belegdur, here, brought him back to the palace injured. I knew he had duties to attend to, so I offered to take Prince Legolas to the healers."

Thranduil nodded. "Belegdur has told me."

"Oh, but the moment he was out of sight Prince Legolas began to kick at me and I had no choice but to let him down. He pulled himself out of my grip and took off down the hall, and I could not catch up with him before he disappeared."

Amarthwen dissolved into tears, burying her face in a sodden handkerchief. "I could not find him," she sobbed. "He has vanished...either out of the palace or down some hall to another wing. I cannot find him."

Belegdur staggered against the doorway, his head reeling. Vanished? Where could Legolas have gone? He was only a little elfling...

"Adar?" Belegdur straightened. "We should gather parties of elves to search him out...if he has ventured into the forest he may be in danger."

Thranduil nodded. "Assemble the guard at once," he ordered. "I will see the captains in my study."

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Legolas gradually awoke to be greeted by darkness and blinding pain. He pushed himself up with his good arm, scooting back to find the wall and leaned against.

His arm hurt to touch so he let it lie in his lap as gently as he could, sniffing back tears at the pain. He couldn't hear the spider anymore, so he didn't know if it had finally gone away or if it was sleeping.

Did anyone even know he was gone? Legolas sniffed again as he thought about his family...were they even looking for him?

He shook his head. Ada would know...Ada would find him.

Tears were running down his face unchecked, and though he rubbed them away with his sleeve they wouldn't stop. He closed his eyes miserably, hoping he could at least pretend that was why it was so dark.

It didn't work. Even with his eyes closed he knew the darkness was pressing in on him.

"Ada," he whimpered as a new sound met his ears. "Where are you?"

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The king rested his elbows on his desk, burying his head in his hands. It had been nearly three hours since his son had reportedly disappeared and he had just now sent the guard out to comb the forest.

He knew that he had no way of knowing where Legolas had gone, but he would rather rule out the forest rather than fruitlessly search the palace and abandon the elfling to the dangers of Mirkwood.

A small knock on the door to the study interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up as Thilator entered.

"I heard about Legolas," the tutor said quietly. "How can I help?"

Thranduil sighed heavily. "I do not know. I have sent out as many of the guard as I could spare to search the forest, but if they do not find him..."

"What if he is in the palace?"

The blonde elf shook his head. "I hope that he is, yet I fear he is not. The forest is dangerous...if he were out there after nightfall he would be prey for anything, but if he is hiding somewhere in the palace I fear we are wasting precious time."

"He should be safe if he is here," Thilator offered encouragingly. "What dangers could there be in the palace?"

Thranduil smiled wryly. "Unused rooms and passages, storerooms, dungeons, the gate to the river..." He pushed away from the desk, turning to look out the window. Only the day before he had stood here and watched his son play with Relfían and Ceretín...was that the last time he would ever see his elfling? "I do not understand," he murmured.

Thilator frowned. "My Lord?"

"Amarthwen," Thranduil waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "She said he ran away from her, but that is not like him."

The tutor hesitated and looked down. Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "Yes? Do you have something to tell me?"

"My Lord..." the tutor sighed. "I know I have only lived in the palace for a few months, but I have been spending nearly every day with Prince Legolas, and I can tell you that it is more like him than you may realize."

The king's eyes narrowed even further. "What do you mean?"

"He has often acted belligerent toward me," Thilator explained quietly. "Today he would not cooperate on the writing lesson, and outright refused to listen to the history lesson. I finally let him go because there was no way we could make any progress today."

Thranduil shook his head, tearing his gaze from the tutor. This behavior was so unlike his son, and yet...did he truly know so little about Legolas as to mistake his temperament?

"I cannot believe it," he murmured.

"My Lord?" Thilator asked, taking a hesitant step forward.

"You are excused, Thilator," Thranduil said loudly, not bothering to look back at the tutor. As soon as he heard the dark-haired elf leave the study the king sank back down into the chair at his desk, resting his head against one hand.

He could not believe his son would act this way...but what reason would the tutor have to lie?

_Where are you, Legolas?

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_

_Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Next chapter will be up Thursday, unless something drastic happens. Legolas will not remain missing for much longer, though there is still much more to the story._

_Review responses for this week have been delayed due to an illness (see author's note at the end of chapter five of _Bad Company_ if you want any more details...though I can't imagine why you would). I should have them up Wednesday or Thursday, though._


	6. I: A Spark of Light

_AN: Review Responses are up, and for those of you who are still interested there should be a new chapter of _Elladan's Grand Plan_ Friday, and this weekend I will finally update my website including archiving all old responses and completed stories. _

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Chapter Five: A Spark of Light

The hunt in the forest had lasted until nightfall, with elves combing every tree and branch for the elfling with no success. Though most were forced to return as darkness made the search nearly impossible, a few had moved on through the night to the village to see if Legolas could have made it that far.

Now the searchers were taking up from where they had left off, and Thranduil was at a loss. He no longer had any doubts that Legolas was somewhere in the palace. Unfortunately, that still left a lot of ground to cover.

With most of the guard still combing the forest or the grounds, Thranduil had assigned teams from the serving staff and those who dwelled within the palace to search it from top to bottom. Every room, passageway, and cupboard was to be checked.

He was running out of options. It was quickly approaching midday, and he still did not know where his son might be.

The search of the palace had to cover delicate ground. There was the question of searching the living quarters, to see if he might have hidden in someone's rooms. But Thranduil was not so ready to invade his people's privacy like that, and for now the search was voluntary only. There were also a number of dignitaries in the palace, one or two just unsavory enough to kidnap Legolas for ransom or leverage. Their rooms should be searched, but how was he to do that without offending them all?

"Ada?" Crown Prince Aranion opened the door to the study just enough to look inside. "The representatives from Lothlorien wish to see you."

Thranduil sighed. "What do they want?" he asked.

"They want to know if they can help search for Legolas."

The king nodded and waved for Aranion to send them in.

He felt like he was running out of time, and could use all the help he could get.

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The noises had come and gone, seemingly focused on other areas and even though Legolas had thought he heard something come into his cell nothing had come near him. He didn't know when but sometime he had passed into an exhausted sleep, only to wake up several times haunted by nightmares of Amarthwen's threats and giant spiders attacking him in the dark of the dungeons.

He could hear the noises again; a sort of rustling and chattering. Legolas shivered and shifted his position slightly. When he'd heard the noises in the hall he'd retreated back to a corner away from the door. The crack underneath the door was too small for him to squeeze out, but he didn't know what might be able to squeeze in.

Something came into the cell, and he heard it squeak. Suddenly Legolas knew what he heard, and he curled up even tighter.

One time Eldawen, one of his sisters, had brought him down to the storerooms, and as soon as she shone her torch in dozens of small creatures squeaked and scurried out of the way.

Rats.

The squeaking grew nearer and he stiffened in fear, squeaking himself when something brushed up against his foot.

He could hear Eldawen's voice in his mind telling him the rats were more afraid of him than he was of them, but he wasn't entirely convinced.

Another rat chattered its way over, and the pair seemed to get into some sort of tussle. He relaxed just slightly. Maybe they were just interested in playing? They didn't seem to be as dangerous as the spider.

Then the two rolled into his foot and he moved it, and one scampered away with a startled squeak. The other stayed to investigate, and Legolas could feel it sniffing the edge of his foot.

"H-hello," he whispered, holding his hand out, a bit amazed when the rat didn't run away.

The rat snuffed it, and seemed to take it as an invitation to crawl up on Legolas.

"No, get off," the prince hissed, pushing the animal away. He didn't want it to crawl on him, he just wanted it to be nice to him and not mean like the spider had been. "Get off," he said louder, pushing harder against the rat's nose.

He cried out as the rat bit down on his hand before scurrying away.

An answering hiss from the corner told him that had been a bad idea.

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Princess Meluial hurried down the corridors as fast as she could, heedless of the elves she passed along the way.

Nightfall was approaching...it would only be two hours before the elves returned from combing the forest and the second night of Legolas' disappearance would begin.

She knew she had no right to say anything, since her duties as archer often kept her away from her family, but she had never trusted Amarthwen from the moment the nurse had been brought from the village. It was true that in the wake of the queen's death they had needed someone to care for Legolas, but couldn't her father have chosen someone with a more caring personality? Amarthwen didn't even seem to like elflings too much.

Not that she suspected Amarthwen of doing something to Legolas, but she wouldn't put it past the nurse to know where he was hiding and just refuse to tell anyone.

"Ada should fire her," she grumbled to herself, barely acknowledging the greeting someone sent her way. She fingered the heavy ring of keys hidden in her pocket, wondering if what she was about to do was a good idea after all. Her father did have searchers scouring the palace, but they were going from top to bottom. It was Meluial's idea to start a new search from bottom to top, and at least eliminate some of the more dangerous places as soon as possible. The river-gate had been eliminated, as it was usually guarded, and most of the dungeons had been left out because they were locked.

But Meluial had the nagging fear that perhaps one of the doors down to one of the deeper dungeons might have been unlocked at some point—until an elfling came down and closed the door, not knowing it would lock behind him.

Legolas had a strong dislike of dark places, so Meluial doubted that he would have run down there. But she didn't want to ignore the possibility.

She was so intent in her thoughts that she didn't notice the danger she was in, and as she rounded a corner she ran into a dark-haired elf, knocking the two of them to the floor.

"Hey, watch were yo—Princess Meluial?"

Meluial groaned. Anything but him. "Captain Brithdil," she said with a sigh, acknowledging the handsome warrior and praying her blush wasn't too obvious.

"What are you doing down here?" Brithdil asked quietly, gently helping her sit up.

"I was looking for my brother," Meluial explained, rubbing at the rather large lump on the back of her head.

Brithdil nodded his understanding. "Are you hurt?"

"Just my head," she said quickly. "I bumped it."

Great. Now she was blushing so much she wouldn't need a torch. Inwardly she cursed her foolish crush on the handsome elf-captain.

"May I ask why you're looking for your brother down here?" Brithdil asked, standing to help her to her feet.

"Um...yes. It occurred to me that the doors to the dungeons lock automatically, so if he came down and a door closed behind him he might be in one of the halls that went unchecked."

Brithdil nodded. "But why would your brother come down this way?" he said with a frown. "I don't even like it down here, and I've been on guard duties in the dungeons before."

The princess sighed. "I have this horrible feeling that he might be," she said softly. "I have to try."

The captain frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "All right," he said in agreement. "But I'm coming with you."

"I can take care of myself," Meluial replied.

"And what if your brother _is_ down here and you can't get him out alone? Would you leave him to go fetch help?"

Meluial sighed. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am," Brithdil said with a grin, taking a torch from a bracket. "Follow me."

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Legolas had hoped that the spider was dead or gone, but as he heard its feet slowly ticking on the floor as it crawled toward him he realized he was wrong.

His hand was throbbing, so even though he found another stone he couldn't pick it up. And his other arm hurt too much to even move, so he was left defenseless against a now-angry spider.

He curled up even tighter, burying his face in his arms and holding in his sobs. Horrible memories were coming back now—memories of Nana's death and the fight with the spiders in the clearing. She had been so brave, fighting the spiders even though she wasn't a warrior. Legolas wished he could be as brave as Nana, but hurt and alone in the dark he only wanted someone to save him.

_You shall not touch him_.

A familiar voice seemed to echo through the cell, and whether it was actually in the air or simply a memory in Legolas' heart the spider hesitated.

But then the elfling heard something even better.

"Legolas?"

Someone was calling his name, and when he peeked up he could see a hint of light through the bars of the cell

Someone had found him.

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Meluial's discouragement had grown when she and Brithdil had searched down three corridors with no luck, but she wasn't about to give up until she had determined whether her brother was here or not.

"There are only two left after this one," Brithdil said as Meluial jammed the key into the lock. "If he's not in the dungeons we could check the storerooms in the old barracks down here."

The princess glanced over with a hint of surprise. "What?"

"They have no knobs on the inside," the captain explained. "My friends shut me in one once," he admitted with a rueful smile.

Meluial returned it, but her attention was drawn away as the door finally gave. "Legolas?" she called, taking the torch from Brithdil.

She shivered as a familiar echo seemed to run down the hall. "Legolas?" she called again, following the twisting trail down to one of the deepest cells.

"Meluial?"

Her heart leapt at the faint cry. "Legolas! Brithdil, he's down here!"

She vaguely heard the captain call something before he came running down. "I wedged the door open," he explained to her questioning glance.

"Here," she shoved the torch into his hands, shaking fingers trying to fit a key into the lock. "Legolas, I'm coming," she called.

"Hurry," the pitiful cry tore at her heart, and she nearly shouted in relief when the door gave way. Brithdil followed her into the cell with the torch, and she rushed forward to throw her arms around her little brother, tears of joy running down her face.

"Oh, Legolas," she whispered. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

The elfling sniffed, nodding his head. She noticed he was cradling both arms close to his body—one arm looked broken, while the other hand was definitely swollen. "Okay, we'll take you up to the healers."

"Ada," Legolas protest pitifully, squinting in the torchlight.

"Ada will be there," Meluial promised, gently lifting the elfling. "Brithdil will find him as soon as we get out of here."

She heard an evil hiss and whirled around, horror-struck to see the spider her brother had been sharing the cell with. "Brithdil?" she asked, her throat dry.

"Go into the hall, My Lady," he said quietly. She did so, carefully shielding Legolas' view but being careful not to leave the circle of torchlight.

As traumatic as the past day and a half had been, she did not want him to see Brithdil kill the spider.

A moment later Brithdil stepped back into the hall, wiping his dagger on the underside of his tunic. Wordlessly he took the keys from Meluial and turned to lead them out of the dungeons.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?_

_AN: All right, I know OC's tend to get on people's nerves (or at least they get on mine when they take too much spotlight), but that part with Meluial and Brithdil is there because their engagement announcement comes in later in the story (they're married in _Beginnings_). It has a purpose, I promise._


	7. I: Reunion

_AN: I'd like to say thank you to everyone who said you liked my OC's...I made that comment on the last chapter because I've read several stories that became somewhat OC-centric and were just tiresome to read. Then again, I am paranoid..._

_Review Responses are up. The link is on my profile._

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Chapter Six: Reunion

Thranduil was startled out of his thoughts when the door to his wife's garden suddenly burst open and one of the captains flew in unannounced.

"My King," Brithdil said, kneeling, slightly out of breath. "Been looking—pardon my intrusion but we found your son."

"Where is he?" the older elf demanded, standing up from the small stone bench.

"Meluial is taking him to the healers. She found him down in one of the lower dungeons. I would have brought you sooner, but I could not find you."

_The dungeons? Ai, Legolas, what were you doing down there?_ "Thank you, Captain," the king nodded, brushing past the other elf. He broke into a rather un-kingly run and was half-aware that Brithdil was following him as he made his way down to the healers. He had retreated to Isáwien's garden—now kept up in her memory—in hopes that being in the place she had loved the most would give him some insight into where Legolas was. But it seemed to have only delayed his reunion with his son.

"Meluial!" he called, rounding the corner and seeing his daughter just exiting the healers'.

The elf-maid whirled about. "Ada!" she shouted happily, throwing her arms about the king. "He's here...we found him!"

"Brithdil told me," Thranduil said, gently pushing Meluial away. His daughter had been away for some time on patrol, but much as he wanted to see her he knew there was an elfling who needed him more. "Is he all right?"

Meluial sobered. "Luinlothiel's in there with him...he's hurt and scared, but I think that's all."

Ignoring the dirt and cobwebs that clung to his daughter, Thranduil gently kissed her on the forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. "Captain Brithdil," he nodded to the guard.

"Ada," Meluial grabbed his sleeve. "Just...be careful."

"Careful?" Thranduil raised one eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," she replied sadly.

The king frowned, but pushed open the door undeterred. He easily spotted the healers and his eldest daughter clustered around one of the beds, focusing on its small occupant.

"Luinlothiel?" Thranduil called softly.

The she-elf looked up, relief etched on her fair features. "Ada," she sighed. "I told you he'd come," she whispered to the elfling in the bed beside her.

Thranduil knelt beside his daughter, his heart nearly breaking at the pitiful sight before him as any remote thought of mentioning his son's disobedience fled his mind when he saw the state the elfling was in. Legolas had obviously been bathed to remove the dirt from his imprisonment, and Thranduil could see clearly a pair of bruises on his son's face, one on his chin that was mingled with scratches and one near his ear. Legolas' left arm was bound up in a sling, and the head healer, Celebalqua, was busily tending to his right hand. But it was the pain and fear in his son's eyes that affected Thranduil the most...pain and fear that went beyond his physical injuries.

"How is he?" the king quietly asked.

"The break in his arm should mend easily," Celebalqua replied, gently laying the injured hand on the bed to mix a few herbs together. "He scraped up one knee and his chin, too...looks like he took a fall in the dungeons. The bite concerns me, though..."

"Bite?" Thranduil asked, scooting over as Luinlothiel stood up to put an arm around his son, careful to mind the broken arm.

"He said it was a rat," the healer replied. "I don't know what the rat had been eating, but it looks as though an infection might be setting in."

Thranduil sighed, gently resting his head against Legolas'. "What happened to you, Elfling?" he asked gently.

The young elf sniffed, shaking his head and half-turning to bury his face against his father.

"He hasn't said a word since Meluial brought him in, except to tell me about the rat," Celebalqua said quietly, carefully smoothing an herbal mixture against the bite wound in the prince's hand, wincing in sympathy as he whimpered in pain. "Give him time," she added encouragingly, wrapping a length of clean bandage around the elfling's hand.

"Ada," Luinlothiel gently touched her father's shoulder. "I will tell Aranion to take over the court for you tomorrow so you can stay here," she offered.

The king nodded in agreement, knowing the crown prince could well handle matters of the court. "Oh, Legolas," Thranduil sighed, gently stroking his son's head. "What happened to you?"

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"My Lord?"

Startled awake, Thranduil looked around for a moment, unsure of where he was.

"Please, excuse me."

His gaze focused on a contrite-looking blonde elf standing some distance away. "Amarthwen," he said coolly in greeting, wincing as suddenly-stiff muscles reminded him he had fallen asleep kneeling next to his son's bed. "Did you need something?" He knew he sounded a bit short, but if the nurse had come in hopes of getting her charge back she had the wrong impression. Thranduil wasn't about to let Legolas out of his sight just yet.

"I just wanted to see for myself that he was all right," she explained, taking another step toward the bed.

Thranduil snorted inwardly. He did not believe that Amarthwen had meant to do anything wrong, but she had been grossly negligent in her duties. Had she aided in the search rather than locking herself in her chambers and spending the day weeping he would have felt differently...as it was he was beginning to doubt her abilities to care for his son.

"He will be fine," the king said, a bit sharply. He was somewhat pleased when the nurse flinched and looked down.

"I offer my apologies, My Lord," the she-elf replied.

Thranduil nodded, ever-so-slightly, turning his gaze back to his sleeping son. Celebalqua had given the elfling a tea to help him sleep, and the king fervently hoped his son would be safe from nightmares for at least this night.

"I will have to consider your future employment, Amarthwen," he said smoothly. "I do not take lightly what happened to my son, nor your part in it."

The nurse looked up, shocked. "My part? I did nothing!"

"Did you?" Thranduil asked coolly. "Why did you not come to me the moment you could not find him?"

"I didn't want to interrupt—"

"Do you think my family matters so little to me that I would have begrudged such an interruption?"

Amarthwen looked down, ashamed.

"You did _nothing_, Amarthwen," Thranduil continued. "That is exactly why I have come to doubt your abilities in caring for my son."

The nurse's cheeks flushed in shame, and she kept her gaze fastened on the floor so Thranduil could not see her eyes. "I apologize," she repeated softly. "I will understand if you wish to banish me."

The king softened a bit. "I would not banish you," he replied. "But I do not know if I can entrust my son to you again."

Amarthwen nodded. "I understand." She looked back up, tears shimmering in her pale blue eyes. "Please convey my apologies to your son...and tell him—" her breath hitched as though she was holding in a sob. "Tell him to remember what I told him?"

Thranduil's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "What did you tell him?"

A tear stole down the nurse's pale face. "That nothing he could do could make me care any less for him. Just...just tell him to remember."

The king nodded. "I'll do that," he said quietly, gently resting his head against his son's as the nurse left.

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It was dark. Too dark. And far too warm. Legolas fought against whatever restrained him, a strangled sob breaking through his throat as he tried to battle the darkness.

He cried out as white-hot pain shot up his left arm, and a restraining hand landed on his shoulder, holding him down, forcing him to stay in the darkness.

"Ada!" he called, reaching for the voice that had softly sung him to sleep. "ADA!"

"Shh, I am here," a cool hand touched his forehead. "Wake, Little One, I am here."

Slowly, there came a glimmer of light...but it seemed so far away! Ada was calling him, and he struggled toward the light, frustrated at the darkness that was weighing him down.

"Why can't he wake up?" he heard Ada say, though the older elf's voice was strangely distant.

"It's the sedative," another voice replied—it sounded like one of the healers. "It must still be working."

He heard a heavy sigh, and the hand on his forehead slid away. "I am here," Ada said again, and Legolas could feel him pressing against his forehead.

He fought again, forcing his eyes to open—a strange sensation as he couldn't quite remember ever sleeping with closed eyes before. Just for a moment darkness seemed to obscure his vision, then resolved itself into a golden cloud and a faintly-lit room.

"My Lord?" the healer's voice called softly. "I think he's waking up."

The golden cloud shifted out of sight, and Legolas was overjoyed to see Ada's face leaning worriedly over him. "Legolas?" Ada asked softly, placing one hand against the elfling's face.

Legolas sniffed and leaned his head against the king's hand. "Ada," he whispered, his voice broken.

The older elf's face split into a large smile. "I have waited so long to hear your voice, Legolas," he said.

"I'll wake Celebalqua," the healer offered. "She might want to examine him now that he's awake."

The king waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Did you have a nightmare?" he asked gently.

Legolas nodded, tears filling his eyes.

"What was it about?"

The elfling's eyes widened, his nurse's words echoing in his mind. _"But if you do tell there won't be enough left of you for the orcs to find...I'll kill you myself."_ He shook his head frantically.

Thranduil frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"N-no," Legolas stuttered, biting his lip to keep it from trembling.

The king nodded. "You don't want to talk about it?"

Legolas shook his head, his gaze dropping.

He heard his father sigh, and looked up to meet the older elf's sad eyes. The king gently stroked his hair—the way Nana used to do, the way Luni sometimes did when he couldn't sleep. "I wish you would tell me about it."

The elfling sniffed back another tear. He didn't like making Ada sad, but he didn't want to make Amarthwen angry.

"Maybe in the morning," Thranduil suggested. "It's very late, and I have to speak with Amarthwen tomorrow."

Eyes wide in fear, Legolas looked up at his father.

Misinterpreting his fear, Thranduil smiled kindly. "After what she said I have decided not to release her, though she will not be taking up her responsibilities for some time, until you are recovered."

Legolas swallowed, his heart pounding. "W-wh," he tried to ask, his mouth dry with fear.

"She asked me to tell you to remember what she said," Ada replied, "that nothing you could ever do could make her care for you any less."

The prince squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, his stomach suddenly twisting in terror. He felt his father place a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he suddenly shuddered with fear. Did this mean Amarthwen had told Ada everything? Did he agree with what she did?

He remembered that Amarthwen had said Ada locked bad elflings down in the dungeons...was that why he hadn't stopped her?

"Legolas?" his father asked in concern, but Legolas couldn't answer. Tears slid down his cheeks as Thranduil gently turned his head back. "Oh, Little One," the king sighed, and gently pulled his son into an embrace, careful of his injuries.

Legolas buried his face in his father's shoulder, his mind a whirl of confusing emotions and memories. "Why d-didn't you come?" he whispered.

He felt his father sigh deeply. "I didn't know where you were. We searched the forest for you...even all the way to the village. I would have come immediately if I had known you were down there."

The elfling sniffed, and at least a little part of the turbulence in his mind lessened.

"Now, go back to sleep," Thranduil said gently. "I'll stay right here with you, all night."

Legolas nodded, opening his eyes enough to look up at his father, though he couldn't quite smile.

"Go back to sleep," the king repeated, laying a hand on the elfling's forehead.

The last thing Legolas saw before he drifted back to sleep was his father's smiling face, watching over him.

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	8. I: Suspicions

_AN: I know, it's late. To quote Han Solo: "It's not my fault!" There was something wrong with the document manager last night, so I couldn't get it posted._

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Chapter Seven: Suspicions 

Meluial did not know that she was being watched.

The sun had risen a few hours ago, giving pale morning light to all in the courtyard. The princess was out on the archery field, apparently to practice before any students came for their lessons.

Her aim was as true as any archer's, but today she was not focused.

Captain Brithdil sighed and leaned back against the wall of the palace. He had come out in the early morning, hoping it might help him think but now he was merely watching Meluial take out her frustrations on the archery targets.

The princess was a fair shot, but he could see her quivering with anger from where he stood.

He assumed she was unfocused for the same reason he was—namely, how had a little elfling like Legolas ended up in the lowest dungeon? True, the doors were left open (something Brithdil had remedied after last night, not wanting this situation repeated), but why would he have gone down there when he already had any number of good hiding places throughout the palace?

There were countless rooms and halls, places he could disappear to and not be found for hours, or even days, so why the dungeons?

The captain sighed again, this time loudly enough that Meluial whirled around to see who else was out.

Brithdil offered her a smile and friendly wave, and to his surprise she smiled back. "Captain Brithdil," she called in greeting.

"My Lady," Brithdil bowed, pushing away from the wall and walking out to the archery field. "Did you come out here to practice?"

The princess shook her head, her eyes on her bow as her fingers checked it for flaws or cracks. "I was trying to clear my head," she said softly.

"Ah. So was I."

Meluial glanced up, her dark eyes curious. "You?"

"I have been troubled, ever since we found your brother last night," Brithdil admitted.

"So have I," Meluial agreed.

"The door to that cell...it was heavy, was it not?"

The princess's brow furrowed. "I don't remember."

"It was far too heavy to have simply closed on its own," Brithdil said. "And there would have been no wind down in the passage."

"And the door in the hall?"

Brithdil shook his head. "Those are supposed to be wedged open when they are not locked," he replied.

The she-elf nodded slowly. "So you don't think he got there on his own." It was a statement, not a question.

"Do you?"

Meluial looked away. "I don't know," she finally said. "I have heard Belegdur's story of what happened, and Amarthwen's side of things, but Legolas has said nothing yet. But..."

The captain waited, but seeing that his companion was reluctant to speak gently prodded her on. "But?"

"I don't trust her," the princess said, turning back to face him, a faint blush stealing into her cheeks.

Brithdil frowned. "Why not?"

"I can't put my finger on it," she replied. "There is just something about her..."

The she-elf's voice trailed off, and her gaze dropped to the ground. "She wears a mask," Meluial finally said, her voice sounding as though she thought her words were foolish. "Every time I see her I feel as though she is wearing a mask and none of us have seen her true nature."

"I see," Brithdil said with a nod.

The princess's cheeks colored even more. "I can't explain it," she said defensively.

"I'm not saying you should," the captain replied. "But what are you going to do with your suspicions?"

The princess glanced up, brown eyes turning steely. "I'm going to watch her, and if I think she is hurting my brother..."

She grabbed an arrow from her quiver, spun on her heel, and fired it into the bull's-eye of the target.

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Thranduil huffed out an annoyed sigh. "Take the documents to Belegdur and ask him to read over them," he said to yet another council member who had come to the healers' ward to seek out the king. "He will instruct you on any changes you should make."

"But, My Lord," the council member hesitated. "Prince Belegdur has already seen these...I was hoping you could approve his changes?"

The king paused for a moment, closing his eyes to collect his thoughts. "Belegdur has been aiding me in tasks like this for well over a century," he said patiently. "I feel no need to check my son's work."

"But..."

A glare from the king silenced any further protest, and the council member hastily bowed and shuffled away.

Thranduil glared after the elf's back for a few moments, before turning his focus back to the task at hand. "Where were we?" he asked softly.

The elfling in the bed was looking down at his hands, a sad expression on his face. "Legolas?" Thranduil gently touched his son's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"They need you," he replied quietly.

"No," the king said with a sigh. "They think they do. Aranion and Belegdur have run the kingdom for me before, they only come because I am here. If I were gone the council would have no trouble accepting your brothers' guidance. This is where I want to be today, do you understand?"

Legolas nodded, but still seemed unconvinced.

"Now, where were we..." the king glanced down at the open book on his knees, scanning the page. He quickly found the spot and continued reading the story, hoping to lighten his son's spirits, which seemed to sink every time one of the councilors or advisors interrupted.

"My Lord?"

Thranduil valiantly refrained from launching the storybook at the timid councilor's face, instead putting on an expression of utmost impatience to face this new interruption. "Yes?" he said through clenched teeth.

"The human ambassadors wish to speak with you," the advisor said, taking a step back at the fury in the elf-king's eyes.

"Tell them I am unavailable," Thranduil said, annoyance creeping into his tone. Was it honestly so difficult to remember that the king was not to be disturbed today?

"I'm sorry, but they insist."

"Then take them to Aranion."

"They refuse to speak to anyone but you, My Lord."

Thranduil groaned. He had been afraid this would happen. These particular human ambassadors—from Dale—had been stubborn and troublesome. He could not understand their insistence on seeing only the king when the crown prince had more experience negotiating than any of them had been alive and was perfectly capable of taking care of their needs, whatever they may be.

"Have you explained that I cannot speak with them today?"

"They are most insistent," the councilor said quietly. "They...they wish to know why they should wait on your whim while you waste your days with your...son."

Thranduil nearly growled. Though he was sure the ambassadors' language was much stronger, the councilor should have known better than to say such things in front of Legolas. "Tell them I will see them in time," he replied, jaw clenching in anger.

The councilor bowed. "Pardon me, but if you were to tell them yourself...?"

Ah, so that was what the councilor wanted; a way out of further complaints from the human ambassadors. "I will not—"

"Ada?" a small voice interrupted what would have become a tirade, and Thranduil looked down into his son's quiet face. "You can go if you need to."

Thranduil shook his head, ignoring the suddenly-hopeful look on the councilor's face. "I said I would stay here, Legolas," he replied softly.

"But they need to talk to you."

The king sighed, his heart nearly breaking at the resignation in the elfling's voice. He couldn't leave, but unless he saw the ambassadors now they would probably come up here and disturb the entire ward with their demands. Hadn't any of them ever had a sick child?

Thranduil closed his eyes, the same resignation he'd heard in his son's voice filling his heart. Perhaps he should speak with them, just for a moment, just long enough to explain that he would speak with them tomorrow. "I will be back in a moment," he promised, kissing his son on the forehead as he rose to follow the councilor. Sometimes he hated being king.

Legolas watched his father leave, then rolled over onto his side and curled up into a ball.

Celebalqua slowly approached the elfling, sitting on the side of the bed and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Legolas?"

He didn't respond. The healer sighed, leaning over to check his forehead. He was running a slight fever—evidently they hadn't been able to prevent all infection from the rat bite. She knew Thranduil would return as soon as he was able, but it was more likely that the ambassadors would be able to drag him into a discussion for an hour or more, and then half a dozen elves would descend upon him with their own demands.

"I'll send for your sister," Celebalqua whispered, knowing Legolas shouldn't have to be alone just because of a group of ill-mannered ambassadors.

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The last of the councilors finally left, leaving behind them a frustrated and worn king. His "moment" with the human ambassadors had turned into hours of work as first they demanded to present their case today rather than tomorrow, followed by a steady stream of councilors pouncing on the chance for "just a moment" of the king's time.

It was mid afternoon and he had yet to return to his son.

Thranduil eyed the papers on his desk, wondering if it would be unkingly to sweep them all onto the floor in a burst of anger. He hadn't acted that way in several thousand years, but today...

He shook his head, instead stacking them to one side. What had possessed him to bring the storybook to his study with him? He should have left it down in the healers', at least then someone else could have read the story to Legolas.

Ah, but then this was only supposed to take a moment.

How could a book like that just disappear? He had moved the papers on his desk no less than three times, looked through the drawers on the unlikely chance it had fallen in there, and searched under every piece of furniture in the room. Huffing out a sigh he turned to look through the bookcase, wondering if perhaps one of the more "helpful" councilors had seen the book and put it away on the shelf.

He pulled out several volumes, frowning at those he didn't recognize. None of them were the storybook, and he was beginning to wonder if he had left it in the healers' ward, or perhaps somewhere along the way.

Thranduil pulled the last volume off, gave its cover and the first few pages a cursory glance before deciding it wasn't the right book and shoved it back onto the shelf. As he did so a piece of parchment fluttered out, and he bent down to pick it up.

A broad smile broke out on his face. It was part of a letter he'd begun last week, only to have to discard it when his pen made a large blot on one of the words. Legolas had found the parchment when he had come up to spend time with Thranduil, and had happily spent the time naming every letter on the document.

The king's smile grew as his gaze traveled down to the childish scrawl on the bottom of the paper. Legolas had wanted to write his name, so Thranduil had carefully spelled it out and let the elfling write it on his own. The result was barely legible, of course, but Legolas had insisted on writing it all himself.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he studied the script. He suddenly whirled around, sweeping papers off his desk and digging down to the treaty Belegdur had finished two days ago.

There. Stuck between the pages of the treaty was the paper Thilator had brought up to discuss Legolas' lack of progress.

The king held both pages up, a frown creasing his features.

His eyes traveled between the page that had fallen out of the book and one he had found on the desk. The letters on both were crooked and uneven, but while the second showed no sigh of discipline or concentration, the first had obviously been written with great patience and diligence.

He did not know whose handwriting was on the paper the tutor had brought up, but it was definitely not his son's.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed in anger. That elf...that elf had dared to stand before him and accuse his son of acting belligerently? Of being negligent in his studies? What other lies had Thilator told?

The king threw the door to his study open, surprising a councilor who had come by for a "moment" of his time. "Go get the tutor, Thilator," Thranduil growled, not caring that he was frightening the councilor. "Tell him I wish to see him immediately."

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	9. I: The Shadow Deepens

_AN: Hey, I'm switching the Tuesday/Wednesday post to Monday/Tuesday. Hope nobody minds. Tuesday and Thursday were just a little too close together for me._

_Review responses are now up on my homepage (link on my profile)._

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Chapter Eight: The Shadow Deepens

"Good afternoon, Luni."

Luinlothiel grimaced at her younger sister. "I have told you, only Legolas and Gilfaroth can call me that."

"Oh, but your real name is so long," Meluial complained jokingly, sitting in the chair at her brother's bedside. "How is he?"

The older she-elf smiled and looked down at the sleeping elfling who was cuddled up against her. "He's been asleep for almost an hour. Celebalqua gave him something for his fever, but she said he should be over it soon."

"Where's Ada? I thought he said he was going to be here all day?"

"He was...until the ambassadors from Dale insisted on speaking with him."

Meluial frowned. "Couldn't he have told them to wait?"

"Did you meet them?" Luinlothiel asked, arching a dark brow in amusement. "They're not exactly the patient sort."

"Is it because they're human?"

"Meluial!"

"Their lives are so short...if Legolas were to meet a human child of a comparable age the human would die before Legolas even comes of age."

Luinlothiel sighed. "They're just a bit impatient. They were scheduled for a meeting with Ada two days ago, but he cancelled when he learned that Legolas was missing. They had already waited two days for an appointment, so it is understandable that they felt Ada was merely wasting their time."

"Luinlothiel," Meluial groaned. "Do you have to see the good in everyone?"

The older sister just smiled sweetly. "It's better than always seeing the evil."

"And what about Amarthwen? What's the good in her?"

Luinlothiel paused for a moment, gently pushing a strand of Legolas' hair back behind his ear. "She has never given us reason to doubt her before."

The younger she-elf shook her head. "I cannot believe that."

"Until two days ago we never had reason to believe there was anything amiss in her behavior toward Legolas. She was always polite and courteous—"

"And cold!" Meluial interjected. "I never once saw her smile, and she's always acted as though she was unhappy."

"I will admit, she has seemed unhappy," Luinlothiel said with a nod. "But I always assumed it was homesickness, for her family back in the village. I believe her parents are dead, but Ada always let her go back to visit her brother every few months."

"And that cheered her up?"

"For a few days, at least. But she hasn't been back for a while, almost a year, I believe."

Meluial leaned forward in her chair. "Did something happen to her brother?"

"I don't know," Luinlothiel sighed. "The first visit she missed was during the autumn festival last year, I believe. Ada simply couldn't spare her, and asked her to wait a week but she never went, and I don't think she's gone back since."

The younger princess sat back and mulled over this for a moment. "Do you know where Ada is?" she asked suddenly, remembering that she had needed to speak with her father.

"I'd imagine he'd be in his study."

"Ah," the younger princess stood up, stretching a bit. "If he wakes up before I get back tell him I stopped by?"

"Of course," Luinlothiel smiled.

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Thranduil glanced up as the tutor entered his study.

"You wanted to see me, My Lord?" Thilator asked, bowing deeply.

"Sit down," the king commanded, not bothering to hide the steel in his tone. He waited for the dark-haired elf to comply, then rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers together, and leaned forward. "Can you help me understand something?"

"I shall try," Thilator replied, straightening up just slightly.

"I have received a complaint about one of my warriors," the king explained. "His captain has reported him as acting belligerent and malcontent, refusing orders or following them only haphazardly."

The tutor nodded, confusing dancing in his ice-blue eyes. "What does this have to do with me, My Lord?"

"Wait," Thranduil held up a hand. "I heard a report from a different captain, who has had opportunity to observe this same warrior and has found him to be nothing like the first captain described, instead being a model warrior."

"Whose opinion do you trust more?" Thilator asked.

Thranduil's eyes glittered dangerously. "The second captain's, to be sure."

"Then I would say the first captain is lying," the tutor replied, falling right into the trap Thranduil had set.

"Thank you, Thilator," the king said with a smile, reaching for a quill and scribbling something on a parchment.

Thilator frowned in confusion. "For what, My Lord?"

Thranduil looked up, mock astonishment in his eyes. "For confessing."

The tutor's eyes widened, and his mouth worked in one or two mute protests before he finally found his tongue. "_Confessing_?" he asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

In reply, Thranduil pushed a piece of parchment across the desk, smiling tightly as Thilator paled. "Th-this is Legolas' assignment," the younger elf stuttered.

"Is it?" the king asked. "But I found this," he added, lifting the second and placing it beside the first. "I had forgotten that Legolas had already shown me his letters," Thranduil added in a dangerous tone.

"My Lord," Thilator said with a nervous laugh. "Surely you held his hand while he wrote this...anyone can see that the two hands are different, and he does not have the control yet to manage a pen like this."

"I sent Belegdur to search the classroom," Thranduil interjected smoothly. "Do you know what he found?"

Thilator shook his head, biting his lip in a nervous gesture.

"Nothing."

The tutor blinked. "I don't understand."

"Nothing," Thranduil repeated, his voice raising. "No parchment, no scrolls, no record at all of my son's work for the past four months save what you see on the desk! Now," the king's voice dropped again, his tone growing deadly, "I can understand losing papers, or destroying the older ones...but why would you destroy all records of his work if you were keeping track of it, as you said you were, to inform me of his progress or lack thereof?"

Thilator stared at the king, pale blue eyes wide in astonishment. "I-I...are you accusing me of treason?"

The king sat back. "I never said a word about treason," he replied. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

The tutor shook his head, his face extraordinarily pale. "I have done nothing wrong," he protested feebly.

"Haven't you? What else are you guilty of?" Thranduil mused, standing from his desk to look out the window, careful to keep his profile to the tutor rather than turning his back, lest the treacherous elf prove dangerous. "Did Legolas tell you where he was going two days ago?"

"He-he said his friends were going to teach him how to climb a tree," Thilator explained.

"And did he say where it was?"

"Beyond th-the gate."

"Where?" Thranduil demanded, whirling to face the tutor with fire in his eyes. "Where did he say it was?"

Thilator was trembling now. The wrath of Thranduil was a terrible thing to behold. "U-up against the w-wall."

"Then explain," Thranduil growled, resting both hands on the desk and leaning forward, "why you told Belegdur that he was going out into the forest?"

"B-but you have forbidden Legolas from leaving the grounds."

"Did you know he would be within sight of the guards?" the king asked sternly.

Thilator looked away, unable to hold the king's livid sapphire gaze. "Yes," he said in a small voice.

"Did you know he would stay in the clearing at the gate?"

The tutor nodded miserably.

"Then why did you tell Belegdur that he was going into the forest?"

"P-please," Thilator begged, looking up at the king with fear in his eyes. "I am sorry, I thought I was protecting your son. There are many dangers in the forest."

Thranduil's eyes glittered. He had no doubt that Thilator was lying, but he had no real proof. "I want the truth, Thilator," he said, his voice soft yet edged with authority.

The tutor shook his head. "There is n-nothing more...I thought I was protecting your son."

"That is a lie," the king shouted, pounding his fist on the table with enough force to make the younger elf jump. "Why?"

Thilator could not meet the king's gaze, his pale blue eyes dropping to the floor.

"The truth, Thilator," Thranduil said quietly, but with an edge to his voice.

"I..." the tutor swallowed, fidgeting with his robe nervously. "I am miserable here," he finally said, his voice cracking in grief or fear. "I do not like living in the palace and tutoring your son. I wish to return to the village and I just thought that if I failed as a tutor you would release me."

Thilator looked back up, honest grief in his eyes. "I swear to you, My Liege, had I known my comments to Belegdur would lead to this I would not have said anything. I was unhappy, but I never wished for Legolas to come to harm."

The king sighed, shaking his head. The tutor had already proven himself treacherous, so Thranduil was not so ready to believe this story as he might have been a few days ago. "If that is the truth," Thranduil said quietly, "you could have come to me and I would have released you."

Shame stole into the younger elf's cheeks and he dropped his head. "I did not think you would let me," he replied.

Thranduil turned away, focusing his gaze on the far wall. "Haudhel," he called, glancing over as the dark-haired guard entered the study. "Take Thilator to his quarters. He is confined there under my orders until I can decide on the proper punishment for him."

Haudhel bowed and strode forward to take the tutor by the arm.

"I am sorry, My Lord," Thilator said quietly.

The king nodded. "Your presence as tutor in this palace will never be required again," he said coldly. "Were I the only one wronged I would not hesitate to banish you from these walls, but I will reconsider should any step forward in your defense."

Thilator nodded, his eyes downcast. "Thank you," he whispered, quietly letting Haudhel escort him from the study.

Thranduil sat back at his desk with a deep sigh, resting his head in his hands. After all that had happened, he now had to explain to Legolas why his tutor would never come back.

And while the Thilator's treachery had hurt Thranduil, in a way, he knew it would be infinitely worse for his son.

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Legolas felt his sister sigh as the servant grew more insistent.

"It is urgent, My Lady," the elf said again. "Your husband needs to see you immediately."

Luni frowned, flipping a lock of dark brown hair over her shoulder. "He knows where I am," she said, her voice puzzled. "Why does he not come here?"

"I do not know," the servant replied. "Perhaps he is unable."

The princess groaned. "Can you excuse me for a moment, Little One?" she asked quietly. "I will be right back."

Legolas didn't mention that that was what Ada had said, and simply nodded.

Luni smiled, gently hugging him. "I will only be gone a moment, and Meluial should return soon, or Ada."

The prince nodded again, his eyes downcast. He caught Luni's sad face as she followed the servant out—he knew she didn't want to go, just like Ada didn't, but his family and his tutor had taught him that duty always had to come first.

He wriggled further under the blankets, studying the bandage around his right hand. It still hurt, and Celebalqua had said that it was infected and that's why he felt bad. He sighed and turned over onto his side, curling up a little, to try to sleep. Everyone told him to sleep as much as he could, and he really didn't feel like doing anything else.

The door to the ward opened, and he could hear soft footsteps coming toward his bed. He figured it was either a healer or Meluial, and he hoped it was the latter because his sister always knew what to say to cheer him up.

The bed shifted as someone sat down on it, and a light hand rested on his shoulder.

"Oh, Legolas."

The prince froze, his heart pounding.

It was Amarthwen.

"You haven't told anyone our little secret, have you?" she asked, her voice strangely light.

He miserably shook his head, panic rising in his throat.

"I know," she said with a sigh, pulling her hand away and standing up. "I don't want to have to carry out my promise," she added. "But I will."

Legolas sniffed back a tear. "Why?" he whispered.

The nurse suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, rolling him onto his back and digging her fingers in. The elfling cried out feebly, trying to pull away as her bruising grip twisted into his skin.

Amarthwen leaned closer, her ice-blue eyes holding deadly malice. "Because I can," she whispered.

She suddenly released his shoulder, standing up straight and smoothing her skirts. "Pleasant dreams, Legolas," she called sweetly, sweeping out of the ward.

The prince rolled back over and curled up, tears leaking out through tightly-closed eyes. Why did she hate him so much?

A healer returned a moment later, but Legolas didn't move until Ada finally came back.

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_Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?_

_AN: Hey, if you read and liked _Bad Company_, you might want to go to my homepage and check out the "Coming Soon!" link. No, it's not the sequel...but it might tide you over until I can start working on the sequel. Either that or you'll be convinced that I'm completely insane._


	10. I: A Promise Kept

_AN: This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I could not make it any longer without making this part of the story drag on. There will finally be action in the next chapter. _

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Chapter Nine: A Promise Kept 

_Isáwien, Queen of Once-Great Greenwood, was not skilled with a blade yet wielded it nonetheless._

Thranduil groaned in his sleep, turning over as though to turn away from the scene of his wife's death.

The spider advanced. On all eight legs it was a tall as an elf, the bright green markings on its sides standing out in the twilit darkness. On its four hind legs it was a terrifying height, towering over the she-elf and casting a shadow about the entire clearing.

"_I won't let you have him," the queen declared, ignoring the numerous cuts she had already endured._

The spider hissed viciously, retreating back a pace as though to reconsider its attack.

_Isáwien stood her ground, blade held at the ready._

"_You shall not touch him," she snarled at the spider._

In his sleep, the Elvenking's brow furrowed in confusion. Though still caught in the dream, he was aware enough to recognize that this one was different.

The spider began to change, darkness spreading around it to engulf the forest and the clearing until Isáwien alone was the solitary spot of light in the darkness.

"_You shall not touch him!" the queen shouted again._

_And a figure stepped out of the shadow, cloaked in darkness._

_The clearing was eerily silent. Isáwien's presence seemed to keep the dark being at bay, but Thranduil could tell his wife was fading. As though she were merely a spirit, she was growing less substantial as the darkness grew. And somehow, Thranduil knew that the moment his wife disappeared the darkness would take his son._

_Isáwien turned, looking deeply into Thranduil's eyes._

"_Thranduil," she said, her voice oddly distant. "Protect our son."_

I am!_ he wanted to shout, but his tongue would not move._

"_Remember your promise," Isáwien called as the shadow deepened and the creature of darkness advanced on his helpless son._

"Remember your promise."

Thranduil awoke with a start, astonished to find that he was trembling. He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. This dream...it was more unsettling than the dream of his wife's death yet he could not guess at its meaning.

Or could he?

Years before, just after Legolas' birth, Isáwien had woken one dark night in the throe of an evil dream or vision. She had begged Thranduil to send Legolas to Rivendell then, and the king had refused. Isáwien had then made him promise to do so should anything happen to her.

Yet he had not upon her death, because he could not bear to be parted from the elfling.

And now...

Thranduil sighed, slipping out of the bed and walking to the wardrobe.

It had been six days since Meluial and Brithdil had found Legolas in the dungeons. Four days ago Thranduil had broken the news to Legolas that his tutor would not be coming back, though he had yet to pass judgement on Thilator (he wanted the elf to worry a bit before facing his sentence).

Since that day, Legolas' condition had steadily declined. He was troubled by nightmares and slept little, ate less, and rarely slept. And while the healers had cured the infection left by the rat's bite, Legolas had not healed in any other way.

Dressed in a simple tunic and legging, Thranduil made his way down the halls to the healers' ward where Legolas had yet to be released. He knew at least his oldest daughter would be there, for it was rare for Luinlothiel to leave the elfling's side. More often than not one of his other children joined her, and once Captain Brithdil had brought Relfían and Ceretín to sit with Legolas.

Luinlothiel looked up as her father entered and spared him the briefest of smiles, holding a finger to her lips and nodding toward the sleeping elfling.

Meluial also glanced up from her seat on the floor at the foot of the bed, relief coloring her features. She straightened up and whispered something to her sister, then gently tugged on Thranduil's arm and motioned toward the door.

Once out in the hallway, Meluial wrapped her arms around her father, stifling a sob into his shoulder.

Thranduil held his daughter for a moment, then gently broke away from the embrace. "How is he?" he asked quietly.

"I-I don't know," Meluial shook her head shakily. "He won't say anything...he's only sleeping now because Celebalqua gave him something to make him sleep. Ada...is he going to die?"

The king's eyes clouded and he turned away. "I cannot say," he finally said, his voice haggard.

Meluial slammed the palm of her hand against the wall, frustration flashing in her eyes. "There has to be something we can do!" she exclaimed.

Thranduil nodded quietly.

"Ada," Meluial suddenly turned back to face her father. "I...I need to speak with you about something."

The king was taken aback a bit. Since when had any of his children been hesitant to approach him. "What is it?" he asked, concern coloring his voice.

"What do you know of Amarthwen?"

His daughter's question startled him. "She hails from the village," Thranduil said, thinking back to the day the nurse had first appeared, nearly drafted into her position by one of his advisors. "I do not know much about her family, but I believe she had been nursemaid to a few other elflings before she was brought here."

"Have you ever seen her acting strangely toward Legolas?"

Thranduil tilted his head. "In what way?"

"Ada, I do not trust her," Meluial said bluntly. "If it were up to me I would not allow her to remain in the palace."

The king sighed inwardly. He did not know where Meluial's mistrust of Amarthwen had come from, but he knew that it would soon prove unneeded. "Meluial, you need not worry. Unless I am mistaken, Amarthwen will not be returning to her position as Legolas' nurse."

Meluial frowned curiously. "What do you mean?"

Thranduil hesitated. "It is not important right now," he finally said. "Can you stay with Legolas for a while? I need to speak with your sister."

Though still puzzled, Meluial assented and retreated into the ward to fetch Luinlothiel. The older she-elf exited a few moments later, her brown eyes dark with worry.

"Ada?" Luinlothiel asked softly. "What is wrong?"

"Can you wake your husband and send him to my study?" the king asked.

Luinlothiel nodded. "You need to see him immediately?"

"As soon as he can come," Thranduil replied. "It is an urgent matter."

The princess's eyes widened a bit, and Thranduil could read the concern within them.

"Fear not," he said quietly. "All shall soon be well."

"I hope you are right, Ada," Luinlothiel murmured as Thranduil returned down the hall toward his study.

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Gilfaroth peeked around the door to the king's study. "You wanted to see me, Adar?" he asked.

Thranduil glanced up, sparing a smile for his son-in-law. Gilfaroth had been part of the family long before his marriage to Luinlothiel, as he and Aranion had been close friends as elflings. "Come in," he motioned for the younger elf to have a seat. "How soon can your patrol be ready?" he asked.

The captain looked up, startled. "For what?" he asked.

Thranduil hesitated a moment. "For a journey," he finally said.

"We can be ready shortly after dawn," Gilfaroth said slowly. "Where do you wish to send us?"

"To Imladris."

Gilfaroth visibly started. Relations between Imladris and Greenwood had not always been stable, and he could not fathom why the king would be sending him at this time. "My Lord?" he leaned forward, capturing his father-in-law's attention. "Why?"

Thranduil's eyes seemed to tear up, and he pushed a sealed letter over to Gilfaroth. "I want you to take Legolas to Lord Elrond."

The captain stared at the letter for a moment, unsure of what he had heard. "Legolas," he said slowly.

"Yes," Thranduil nodded, his face grave. "It is time I kept my promise."

Gilfaroth looked up curiously. "Your promise?"

"I promised Isáwien," Thranduil explained, "that if something should happen to her I would send Legolas to be raised by Lord Elrond."

The younger elf was taken aback. "But she has been dead these ten years...why now?"

Thranduil stood, passing a hand over his face. "For weeks before the accident I dreamt of her death...each dream the same and ending with her reminding me of my promise to protect our son. And I have tried, I have protected him from every danger outside the palace but not from the dangers within."

Gilfaroth's eyes narrowed. Luni had told him about Meluial's suspicions. "Do you suspect someone is behind what happened to Legolas?"

"I don't know," the king sighed. "I have no proof either way, and Legolas refuses to speak of it. I do know that had I heeded my dreams this would not have happened."

The captain glanced down, his eyes tracing the scrawl on the letter. He understood the king's guilt...but he also understood that it would tear the king apart to send his youngest son to be raised by another. "When do you wish us to leave?" he asked, forcing his own grief back to better serve his father-in-law.

Thranduil turned back around, his own eyes glistening suspiciously. "As soon as possible," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "My son...I would not have him die because I was too selfish to let him go."

Gilfaroth nodded. "I will alert the warriors at once," he said quietly.

He slipped out, pausing with his back to the door and head bowed.

Grieved though he was at the thought of leaving his brother-in-law to be raised by Lord Elrond, he could only hope that they were not too late to save Legolas.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _


	11. I: Preparations

_AN: __Review responses are up (link on my profile)_

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Chapter Ten: Preparations

True to Gilfaroth's word, his company was preparing to ride out to Rivendell just after dawn. There was, however, one more task to be done before they could depart.

Thranduil had yet to tell his son that he was being sent away.

The blow would be softened, he knew, with the news that Luinlothiel was traveling with him. In fact, rather than assembling his regular patrol Gilfaroth had hand-picked the elves who were to accompany them, and he had heard that both Meluial and Brithdil had been pulled from their regular duties to join the company.

Legolas sat alone in his bed in the ward, staring around him in bewilderment as the healers bustled about packing herbs and medicines for the journey. Thranduil paused, his heart nearly breaking as he realized this would probably be the last time he saw his son as an elfling.

He approached the bed, careful to make some noise so he wouldn't completely startle the elfling.

The prince looked up at his father, eyes wide in confusion. "Ada?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Thranduil sat on the edge of the bed, gently drawing his son into his arms. "Legolas," he began, his voice cracking. "Do you know, when you were born I promised your mother I would always protect you?"

Legolas shook his head, though from the expression on the elfling's face Thranduil knew his son realized something was going to happen.

"I did," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I also promised her that I would send you someplace safe if anything ever happened to you."

The prince sniffed. "Why?" he asked.

"Because," Thranduil swallowed, tightening his embrace around his son. "Because I cannot always protect you here," he finally said, a tear leaking out of his eye. "Because of the shadow the forest is not safe, and you should be able to grow up in a place of peace."

Legolas buried his face in his father's tunic. "No," he whispered.

"I am sending you to Imladris," the king said. "Lord Elrond will take care of you."

The prince shook his head. "I want you," he whimpered.

"I know," Thranduil rested his chin against the elfling's head. "But Celebalqua says that you're very ill and she can't help you anymore. Only Lord Elrond can."

Legolas sniffed, and the king could feel his son's tears dampening his tunic.

"It won't be forever," he promised. "And Lord Elrond will take good care of you. He has two sons, I believe they are a little younger than Belegdur."

The little prince shook his head again. "No."

"It won't be forever," Thranduil repeated. "And Imladris is so peaceful. You can grow up without being afraid. You'll be safe there."

"But you won't be there," the elfling whispered.

Thranduil closed his eyes. He felt as though his heart was breaking. "I don't want you to go, either," the king finally admitted, resolved to tell his son the truth. "But I'm afraid something worse will happen if you stay here."

The elfling shivered, his grip on his father's tunic tightening. "W-what about Amarthwen?" Legolas asked, his voice shaking.

The king frowned, Meluial's suspicions hovering on the edge of his thoughts. "She's staying here," he said. "Legolas," Thranduil hesitated, "did she do this to you?"

He could feel his son's heart pounding, and glanced down to see that the elfling had gone surprisingly pale.

"N-no," Legolas whispered.

Thranduil's frown deepened. He wanted to press the matter, to demand the truth from his son but the elfling's reaction made him hesitate. Something about the truth terrified Legolas, and he did not know if forcing his son to face it would aide or hinder his healing. But even if the nurse had been the one responsible, Thranduil reasoned, Legolas would be safe from her in Imladris. And with the prince out of harm's way, Thranduil would be free to investigate matters without concern for his son's safety.

"All right," Thranduil said softly. He would write to Elrond later to ask him to encourage the elfling to tell the full tale. Perhaps in a place far removed from the palace Legolas would be more able to speak of what happened. "Come, I will help you dress for your journey," he said, gently picking the elfling up and carrying him out of the ward. "I believe your sister has already packed for you, but you cannot expect to ride through the forest in a sleeping gown!"

The king's attempt at mirth fell short, as Legolas simply rested his head against his father, tears still running down his face.

"Will you forget me?" the elfling asked quietly.

Thranduil felt a sob hitch in his throat, and forced himself to steel his composure in front of his son.

"Never."

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But while Thranduil was helping his youngest son prepare for his journey, Princess Meluial had a different sort of preparation to make.

She found Amarthwen standing off to one side of the hall and stealthily approached her, careful to keep her steps quiet.

"Amarthwen," Meluial clapped a hand to the blonde elf-maid's shoulder, grinning as the older being gave a start. "May I speak with you a moment?"

The nurse assented, and the two walked some steps down the hall, away from the bustle of the gathering company.

"Did you need something, Lady Meluial?" Amarthwen asked sweetly.

Meluial shook her head. "I merely wanted to suggest that you to leave the palace and never come back," she explained in a conversational tone.

Amarthwen stared at the princess as though she hadn't heard her properly. "What?"

"Leave," Meluial repeated, through gritted teeth, "and I would suggest you never return."

The older elf laughed merrily. "And why would I want to do that?"

The princess took a step toward her, anger flashing in her eyes. "There may not be enough proof against you for my father, but I have no qualms in accusing you of harming my brother."

Amarthwen's eyes narrowed. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," Meluial said, her tone more one of accusation than confession. "But I know it was you."

For the first time, Meluial could see something like concern in Amarthwen's pale blue eyes. "Has someone accused me?" she asked.

"Not _yet_."

The nurse straightened. "Then why should I leave? I've done nothing wrong."

Meluial's eyes narrowed. "All right," she said darkly. "But if I learn that you were in any way responsible for what happened to Legolas, blood will be spilt. And it will not be mine."

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It was a solemn group that gathered outside the palace to say farewell to the Rivendell-bound party that morning. Gilfaroth's hand-selected part of ten elves—eight warriors excluding himself and his wife—were all mounted or stood waiting by their horses for the prince they were to escort.

Luinlothiel steeled herself as her father approached. She was, in part, glad that she was accompanying Legolas to Rivendell as that would delay their farewell. However, she did not know how she could bear leaving him all alone in the house of Lord Elrond.

The princess steadied her horse as the other warriors mounted. All had agreed that a speedy departure once the prince was in their hands would be best for all parties. She fingered the small flask Celebalqua had given her, with instructions to make Legolas drink it as soon as they were out of sight. It contained a simple sleeping draught, and it was the healer's hope that the elfling could better bear the journey away from his home if he were asleep.

Luinlothiel forced a smile onto her face as her father came up to stand by her mare, Legolas held tightly in his arms.

"Take care of him?" the king asked.

"You don't even need to ask," Luinlothiel replied, holding her arms out for the elfling. With a moment's hesitation, Thranduil handed his son over to his daughter, tears catching in his eyes as Legolas struggled to remain in his father's arms.

"You have to go," Thranduil whispered, stroking Legolas' hair as Luinlothiel adjusted him on the saddle before her. "But you will return some day."

Legolas sniffed, shaking his head and fighting against Luinlothiel. "I'll be good," he whispered in a last attempt at convincing his father to let him stay home.

The Elvenking smiled weakly. "You always were," he said softly, stepping away despite the elfling's protests. "Ride fast," he called to the riders. "May the Grace of the Valar go with you."

Gilfaroth raised one arm and called for the patrol to move out, taking the lead down the path that would lead them out of the forest.

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"Adar?" a hand grabbed Thranduil's arm as the patrol rounded out of sight.

Thranduil brushed away Belegdur's hand. "I am all right," he replied, ignoring the catch in his throat and the tears in his eyes.

"Pardon me, Adar, but you are not," Belegdur chided, his own voice trembling. "None of us are."

The king nodded, glancing over at his son and putting an arm around the younger elf's shoulders. "It is for the best," he said, though he could not help but feel that he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

"Is it?" Belegdur asked, a bit harshly.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, refusing to let the sharpness he felt enter his tone. His emotions were on edge already, and he was not about to let his son drive him to anger.

"You know how the elves who live there are...he will grow up in a manner unworthy of an elf of his stature."

"Forget not that Elrond is an elf-lord of high esteem," Thranduil said warningly.

"I know," Belegdur huffed a sigh. "But, Adar, surely there was another way."

The king's eyes grew distant, and he turned his gaze back to the forest path, even though the riders were far out of sight. "I do not know," he admitted, fear that this was the wrong decision suddenly clutching at his heart. "But I pray there wasn't."

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _


	12. I: Fight in the Forest

_AN: All right...there's finally real action in this chapter and y'all know me. That means more spiders. I do promise to get to something else soon, though...spiders aren't the only evil creatures in Middle-Earth, even if they seem to be the only ones I can write (maybe it's the phobia...I don't know)._

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Chapter Eleven: Fight in the Forest

By Gilfaroth's estimate, it would take four days to get through the forest, two to travel south to the Old Ford, and another three to go through the High Pass to Rivendell. Meluial sighed and glanced over at her sister, relieved that Legolas was sleeping again. They were three days into their journey, about three-quarters of the way to the western border of the forest. The road was usually well-traveled, though there weren't many parties traveling to or from Mirkwood this time of year, so it was uncommon for there to be any real dangers. But the warriors all stayed alert, just in case.

There was a certain sharpness to the air that signaled the approach of Autumn, and Meluial was a bit concerned that their stay in Rivendell would have to be cut short for fear of snow blocking the mountain passes. Luinlothiel would undoubtedly want to stay until Legolas was well, but with a mild summer and signs predicting a long, harsh winter Meluial was afraid they wouldn't have time to stay. She looked over to Luinlothiel again, and caught an encouraging smile from the older she-elf. The party of elves was strangely silent, as though fearing conversation would somehow delay them.

"How is he?" Meluial asked, maneuvering her horse a bit closer to her sister.

"Sleeping," Luinlothiel shrugged. "At least the fever hasn't returned, but he hasn't changed since we left."

Meluial winced. Their departure from the palace had been a horrible blow for an elfling, and for the entire day he had been quiet and listless as though he were physically hurt. Granted, he had started acting like that in the days since the accident but somehow this was worse. "Should we slow down?"

"No," the older princess shook her head firmly. "We need to get him to Lord Elrond as soon as possible. The pace isn't too difficult for him."

Sighing, Meluial glanced around at the silent company. Gilfaroth rode at the head, perpetually searching the trees for any threat that might dare approach. Brithdil was just behind them, acting as rearguard with a few of the other warriors. Meluial knew the rest of the company on sight, though since most of them came from Gilfaroth's patrol she didn't know them all by name.

She couldn't help but notice that all of the elves chosen for the company were archers. Many, like Gilfaroth, were skilled with both bow and blade, but it all of them (with the exception of Luinlothiel, of course) were well-known for their archery skilled.

Luinlothiel was not numbered among the warriors, though she did carrying a weapon and knew enough to defend herself. Her instructions were explicit: if they were to run into danger she was to take Legolas and flee as fast as her horse could take her.

The younger princess shook her head as dark thoughts flitted through her mind. It was likely that they would run into danger on this journey...by the last reports orcs had been sighted in the Misty Mountains, gathering in numbers. While this was a very real danger, Gilfaroth had feared worse the delay that would result if they chose to go south and bypass the mountains. The journey to Rivendell would already take nine days if all went smoothly (and Meluial had no doubt that it wouldn't)...going around the mountains would add nearly twice that.

"Captain!"

Brithdil's voice startled the princess out of her musings.

Gilfaroth whirled about, the company halting as he turned. "Yes?" he asked, his voice taught with anxiety. "I heard it too, Brithdil."

Meluial looked back. Brithdil had an arrow out, drawn up on his bow. "They approach from the south," he called.

She shivered. All in the company knew what he was referring to...there could only be one "they" in Mirkwood forest.

"What force conspires against us," Gilfaroth muttered, shaking his head. "Draw in! Prepare for the attack! Brithdil," he called the younger elf forward. "How large do you think it is?"

Brithdil frowned in concentration, and Meluial edged a bit closer to hear what he would say.

"Perhaps ten...Green Spiders, I believe."

The princess breathed a sigh of relief. Green Spiders were more greedy than dangerous...likely this was a simple hunting party moved to a desperate assault on the elves due to hunger. Or they could have been driven from their nests by larger predators, or perhaps were cast-outs by a new queen. Any number of reasons...but a party of this size was not likely to be trouble.

"All right," Gilfaroth nodded. "I want you to take Luinlothiel and go further up the trail. Wait for us there...and be prepared to flee should their numbers grow."

Meluial grimaced as Brithdil nodded. If the spiders were feared in battle for one reason, it was that they seemed to multiply in the thick of a fight.

The younger captain and Luinlothiel spurred their horses on, Brithdil still with an eye out for approaching danger. Meluial watched them for as long as she dared, jerking her attention back to the trees as she held her bow at the ready.

Yet she still jumped when the first spider dropped down from the trees above. She swore under her breath, firing an arrow at it and hitting it in the side. Gilfaroth was barking orders out to his warriors as the spiders attacked, himself pausing to fire into the trees.

Tricky spiders, Meluial thought to herself. Only three had come down in the first wave, and the others scuttled about in the branches overhead, making it nearly impossible to see them for a clear shot.

Of course, the fact that the sun was setting and the forest was swiftly growing darker didn't help at all.

Her horse suddenly bucked, and Meluial leapt off before the beast could throw her, whirling around to fire at a spider that had come up on the other side of the path. She shouted a warning to one of the other warriors, and he instinctively dropped to the ground as she shot an arrow into the spider that had been about to drop on his head.

Ignoring the warrior's thanks—there would be time enough for that when the battle was over—Meluial turned her attention back to the tree canopy above.

She could see movement in the branches, and wryly realized that the "perhaps ten" spiders had indeed multiplied into a much more formidable force. Not that she could blame Brithdil for his miscalculation...truly, it was hard to count the number of approaching spiders based solely on sound.

A dark shape hurtled down in the corner of her eye, and she spun and fired into it, another arrow nearly meeting hers as it pierced the creature. It hissed something, and Gilfaroth quickly killed it with another arrow, pausing to meet Meluial's eyes as if ensuring his sister-in-law's wellbeing.

She managed a quick smile, ducking away from another warrior's warning, only to realize belatedly that it hadn't been aimed at her. Some small portion of her mind noted that there was a warrior named Meledur in the party, and no doubt this wouldn't be the first time that their names were confused.

A sudden weight sprawled across her back as her brother-in-law pushed her down, rolling aside and slashing out with his knife as another spider seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Where are they coming from," Meluial grumbled, whipping out another arrow to slaughter another spider.

"This is the last wave," Gilfaroth grunted, shoving a carcass away with one foot. "Notice, there are no more coming."

Meluial nodded thankfully, her eyes still darting about the trees for more spiders.

It seemed true, then. Perhaps the spider attack was ending.

Just as the battle seemed to be over a scream echoed through the forest, and Meluial froze. She knew that voice.

So did Gilfaroth. "Luni," he gasped, running and leaping onto his horse.

Meluial mounted her own, doggedly following her brother-in-law down the path. She could hear the sound of battle and could only pray that they weren't too late.

"Brithdil, no!"

The princess's heart nearly stopped beating at the sound of her sister's terrified voice. She urged her horse faster, catching up with and nearly passing Gilfaroth. If anything happened to Brithdil...

The elves came to the top of a slight dip and saw Luinlothiel down in the hollow, huddled against a tree with Legolas safely wrapped in her cloak. Meluial breathed a slight sigh of relief that her brother and sister were all right, but when she caught sight of Brithdil her breath was nearly stolen from her again.

Brithdil was in the center of the path, and in the fading light she could see that he was facing down one of the largest common spiders she'd ever seen. It was nearly the size of a wolf, its eyes gleaming with a hungry light.

The elf-captain's quiver and bow lay discarded, and to Meluial's eye it looked as though they had been torn off of his body.

Meluial could only watch as Brithdil lunged forward, knives in hand, to battle the spider. She was just a bit awestruck as he dodged and feinted, effectively scoring several strong hits on the spider. She had never had a chance to observe someone fighting with two knives before. In one fluid move Brithdil cut through the spider, finally striking the kiling blow. Meluial sighed in relief, barely noticing that Gilfaroth had ridden down ahead of her to check on Luinlothiel and Legolas.

"Captain Brithdil?" she called, dismounting and running over to the captain who was wiping his knives off with a disgusted expression. "Are you hurt?"

The captain glanced up, a hint of pain twisting his handsome features. "Not really," he shrugged, wincing as he did so. "Caught me by surprise...jumped down from the canopy and landed on my back. Guess I was luck it caught hold of my quiver and not my skin."

Meluial grimaced, helping Brithdil gather his scattered arrows. Glancing over at him, she suddenly noticed blood staining the sleeve of his tunic. "You are hurt!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the uninjured arm and forcing him to sit down. "Did it bite you?"

"No," Brithdil shook his head. "Might have scratched me, though."

"Let me see it," Meluial said, shooting a glare at her sister when she caught Luinlothiel smiling. "Luni, Dear," she called over, sweetly, "you wouldn't happen to have a roll of bandages in your pack would you?"

Luinlothiel made a face at her sister, but tossed the requested item over and went back to soothing Legolas. Meluial winced...no doubt the spiders brought back horrible memories for the elfling.

Gilfaroth, seeing that his wife was safe, headed back to the rest of the elves to bring them forward. Meluial knew that they would move out as soon as he returned, to make camp farther along the road away from the spider bodies. There were enough scavengers in the forest that they didn't need to worry about disposing of the carcasses.

To her relief, the scratch on Brithdil's arm was minor. Once it was cleaned and bandaged, the captain assured her it would heal with no trouble. He was a bit sore (apparently throwing a wolf-sized spider off of one's back could cause that), but other than that he was uninjured.

The greater relief, however, was when Gilfaroth returned to announce that they had all come through the battle with not terrible hurts. No one had been bitten, and it seemed none had a wound more serious than Brithdil's.

But Meluial knew, as they all did, that they were lucky. Had the spiders been lead by a Great Spider, the battle would have gone much worse.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: Sorry, I had to cut it off there otherwise it would have ended up twice as long. But we're almost through the first part...about four chapters left. In the next one Legolas finally arrives in Rivendell, and in the one after that he meets Elladan and Elrohir._

_Funny (and pointless) story. As I was sitting at my desk trying to write this chapter my cat was nearby, and he kept meowing at me with this very earnest expression on his face like he had something important to tell me. I just wish I knew what. He was very insistent._


	13. I: Rivendell

_AN: Okay, I'm not moving a post to Saturday. This is just an extra post this week, a bonus if you want to call it that, because a lot of this is just stuff I had to cut out of the last chapter (lest it be extraordinarily long...like upwards of five thousands words). This chapter's a bit long as it is, though...guess it makes up for a couple of shorter chapters._

_Special thanks for this chapter goes to **Haldir's Heart and Soul**, whose suggestion really helped improve this part of the story (from my perspective, at least). Thanks for the idea! Hope you like what I've done with it (and there's still a little bit more to come in the next chapter). _

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Chapter Twelve: Rivendell

Thankfully, they passed through the rest of the forest with little trouble. Their company was large enough that all but the most desperate of predators would pass them by, yet small enough to not attract much attention from the darker denizens of the forest.

The battle with the spiders had left them all on edge, and Brithdil knew he wasn't the only one glad to be out of the forest.

The air of the plains was such a welcome change to that of Mirkwood. He would never admit it, but Brithdil often felt a bit claustrophobic living within the palace. He wasn't old enough to remember what the forest was like before the shadow fell, and had ventured out to Dale enough with his father to know that the lands beyond the forest were much more peaceful.

Brithdil shook his head, dispelling those thoughts to focus on the area around him. Gilfaroth had halted the company just as dusk was falling, and Brithdil had been assigned first watch along with Meledur.

He sighed, rotating his injured shoulder with a grimace. The wound the spider had left was healing quickly, despite a slight infection. He had managed to keep the infection hidden from Gilfaroth and the rest of the company, knowing that he would be sent back to the palace if there was the least concern that he might become ill. The infection was only slight, and after cleaning the wound properly it was already beginning to disappear.

The elf glanced casually back at the circle of elves around the fire. One of the older warriors was telling a story, and Brithdil hoped it had nothing to do with spiders. He hated spiders. Although, he couldn't help think with a grin, it was becoming quite the trend for him to save Prince Legolas from spiders.

"Captain Brithdil?"

Brithdil bit back a groan. "Lady Meluial," he said casually. He didn't mind her presence—truly, he was quite fond of Meluial—but the princess had been pestering him since the battle with the spiders to let her look after the wound on his arm. He appreciated the concern, but he didn't want her to find out it had been infected.

"Please, don't call me 'Lady'," Meluial said with a sigh.

"In which case, then, you should not call me 'Captain'," Brithdil replied, glancing over at her. The princess's gaze was focused on the tree line, just visible in the darkness of night. "Is something wrong?"

Meluial shook her head. "Do you think we'll make it to Rivendell with no further trouble?" she asked quietly.

The captain shrugged. "I hope so," he said evenly. "Yet...I must say I doubt it."

The she-elf nodded silently. "I fear the same," she finally said. "Brithdil...what if we run into trouble crossing the mountains? There are only nine of us...what if we can't protect Legolas?"

She said nothing about her own safety, even though she was a princess of Mirkwood. Brithdil just smiled and gently took her hand, squeezing it to offer some reassurance and then releasing it. "I promise you, Meluial, that I would die before I let anything happen to your brother." Or you, he added mentally.

"Thank you," Meluial whispered, smiling briefly before turning back to the circle of the camp.

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Three days later, Meluial was beginning to believe her concerns had been ill-founded. They had yet to cross the High Pass, but so far they had gone unchallenged by any creature in the land. Granted, part of this was probably due to the shape-changer who was rumored to be settling the land near the river but the elves were all grateful for the peaceful journey.

They had crossed the Anduin easily—there hadn't been enough rains lately to make the ford dangerous, and were now camped a few hours from the High Pass under threatening storm clouds.

The Misty Mountains loomed in the distance, a dark and foreboding picture of things to come. The princess shuddered as she sat down next to Luinlothiel, easily shifting Legolas into her lap so her sister could have a few moments to herself.

"See the mountains?" Meluial whispered. "We'll start crossing them tomorrow, and the day after we'll be in Rivendell."

Legolas followed her gaze, blue eyes wide in wonder. He had lived his entire life in the palace, so the plains and the mountains had been amazing to him. It had secretly delighted his sisters—and the other members of the company—to see how curious he was of the world around him. Perhaps being away from the shadow of Mirkwood had helped, but over the last few days Legolas hadn't seemed so despondent.

"Meluial?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been there?"

Meluial smiled. "Oh, yes. I've been to Rivendell many times, and even all the way to Lothlorien."

"What's it like?"

The princess's smile broadened. He had never shown any interest in Rivendell before...this was certainly hopeful. "It's beautiful, even more than the palace—but don't tell Ada I said that," she added in a conspiring tone. Legolas almost giggled, and Meluial's heart lightened immensely. There _was_ still hope that he could recover, then. "It's very light there," she said, drawing on her first impression of Lord Elrond's realm. "There is no shadow, like the one over our home. The elves there live in houses, like the elves in the village. There is a huge garden, and they are always singing and laughing and telling stories. It is just so peaceful there, and nothing dangerous can ever come in."

"No spiders?"

Had it not been for the tragic events in their family's past, Meluial might have laughed at his question. "No, Legolas, I have never seen a spider beyond a tiny house spider in that place."

Legolas sighed, nodding solemnly, and snuggled back against Meluial. "Will Ada come and see me?" he asked in a voice so quiet that she scarcely heard him.

"He'll try," Meluial said brightly, though she did not know if he would be able to. "But I will...and I'm sure Gilfaroth and Luni will, too."

"And Brithdil?"

Meluial smiled again. At some point Legolas had grown very attached to the captain...probably because the dark-haired elf had killed the spider that was attacking them. "We'll see," she simply said. "How are you feeling today?"

The elfling just shook his head, looking up at Meluial with sad eyes.

"It will be all right," the princess said, hugging him close. His curiosity was a good sign, but she knew Legolas still had a long way to go before he was completely healed.

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Brithdil gritted his teeth as another burst of wind tore through the company. He pulled his hood a little lower to escape the driving rain. It had begun during the night, and it looked as though the storm could continue for days, which made their journey through the High Pass all the more difficult. He knew Gilfaroth was concerned that the twilight-like darkness of the day might encourage orcs to venture out, but that the older elf was also worried that a rain this heavy would flood the lower-lying plain. It had come down to crossing the pass or going back over the Anduin and risking delay if those waters rose.

He shook a rain-soaked strand of hair out of his face, urging his horse ahead a few paces to ride beside Lady Luinlothiel. "Are you all right?" he called over the rain.

The princess looked over at him in surprise. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied, reaching up to tuck her hair back into her hood. Legolas peeked out from where Luinlothiel had sheltered him under his cloak, and Brithdil spared a smile for the prince.

"Let me take him."

Gilfaroth's voice startled Brithdil, as the rain had hampered his hearing.

"I'm fine," Luinlothiel protested.

"You're exhausted, and the rain isn't helping," the captain retorted, shaking his head at his wife. "Let me take him."

Brithdil moved to one side, reaching out a hand to steady Gilfaroth's horse as the elfling was switched over. The older elf gently wrapped his cloak around the prince, sheltering him from the rain and wind.

"Don't you think we should turn back?" Brithdil asked as they pulled away from Luinlothiel.

"It's too dangerous," Gilfaroth replied. "We'd never make it."

"Why?"

The older elf speared him with a sharp look. "Can't you sense them?"

Brithdil shivered. He had hoped it was just his imagination, but if Gilfaroth had felt the same there was no doubt. There were orcs nearby. "Are they coming out?" he asked, his hand automatically straying toward his quiver.

"I think they're waiting to see what we do," Gilfaroth replied, scanning the sides of the mountains. He hesitated, looking down at the elfling in his cloak. "If they should attack, Brithdil, I want you to take command," he finally said in a low voice.

The younger elf was stunned. "Me?"

"Yes. You are a captain, the others will follow you."

"What about you?" he asked.

"I will take Legolas and run," Gilfaroth replied simply. "I wouldn't admit it to Luni, but her horse is not suited for such a flight...mine is."

Brithdil nodded, understanding his friend's reasoning. "All right," he agreed. "Should we draw them out?"

"No," the older elf shook his head, still scanning for signs of orc activity. "We should try to get as far as possible before being drawn into battle."

They both heard the stifled noise from inside Gilfaroth's cloak, and he looked down with an encouraging smile for the elfling. "Do not fear," he said softly. "We'll protect you."

Brithdil opened his mouth to agree, but his senses suddenly flared with danger. "_Go!_" he hissed, pushing Gilfaroth away from him as a crude arrow struck the ground between them.

The older elf needed no more encouragement, and in an instant he leaned over the horse, whispering into its ear and urging it forward.

Brithdil did not spare him another glance, turning his attention back to directing the company. "Hold your ground!" he called. "We can't lead them toward the prince!"

He caught Luinlothiel's eye, hoping she would understand what her husband did. She lowered her head, nodding. "Get down," he called, leaping from his horse and running over to pull her off hers as the elves around them drew the fire from the orcs. "Stay out of sight if you can."

Bows sang around him, and he could hear the hideous screeches of orcs on the ledges above them.

All was going well, until one of the elves fell with an arrow in his shoulder. It tore Brithdil's heart, but he could not pull anyone else away from the battle to tend to the injured warrior. He noticed another elf drawing close to the injured one, to help protect him from other arrows.

An orc body tumbled off one of the ledges, spooking the already-nervous horses. Brithdil wasted no effort restraining the animals, calling for the warriors to let them go.

He caught a glimpse of an orc in the wall on the other side of the pass, and raised his bow to shoot it but was suddenly thrown to one side as another landed on him from above. He rolled to his feet, and was again thrown aside as something ran into him.

Sharp pain tore through his shoulder, and he cried out as the orc-blade that had pierced him was pulled free.

He shuffled back awkwardly, pulling one of his knives out and steadying himself as he face the creature that had attacked him, his injured arm hanging uselessly. He could see other orcs jumping down from the ledges as their arrows ran out, advancing to overwhelm the elves. With grim satisfaction he noticed that, thanks to the one who had caught him by surprise, none of the others were caught off-guard.

The orc gave an inarticulate cry, charging with its blade raised. Brithdil fought him off, wishing he had the use of both his arms. Catching the orc's sword with his knife, he kicked out into the creature's gut, knocking it back a few steps.

The orc didn't stop to catch its breath, pressing the elf even further. Brithdil battled the orc for a few moments before he faltered, slipping on a muddy patch and landing painfully on one knee. Another of the creatures attacked from the side, punching the wound in his arm. Under the press of the two orcs, Brithdil was knocked to the ground. He tried to get back up, but one orc placed its foot on his chest, pressing down until the elf struggled to breathe, the other stepping on his wrist to trap his knife.

Brithdil gasped for air, his eyes catching the orc's blade as it raised it to deliver the killing stroke.

He steeled himself for death, but the orc suddenly stopped, awkwardly. Before Brithdil could begin to wonder what was going on, the creature toppled over, an arrow embedded in its back. The second orc snarled, pushing the first off and pulling Brithdil up by his tunic until their faces were almost touching.

Gagging at the creature's foul breath, Brithdil tightened his fingers around his knife and stabbed the orc in the side, kicking it away as it howled in pain. The orc's movement wrenched the knife out of his grasp, and Brithdil jerked his feet away as the orc grabbed for his legs.

He caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly a gray-cloaked figure was standing over the orc, stabbing its sword down into creature's body.

The gray-cloaked stranger extended a hand, the hood of his cloak falling back to reveal an elf with light blond hair and gray-blue eyes. "Are you all right?" the elf asked in concern.

Brithdil nodded breathlessly, wide eyes taking in the twelve elves who had somehow appeared to help battle the orcs. "How did you find us," he asked in astonishment.

A slight smile pulled at the light-haired elf's lips. "That is a very long story."

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Gilfaroth ducked under another branch, urging his horse on through the forest at the borders of Lord Elrond's realm.

"We're almost there," the elf muttered, both to the elfling and himself. The ride through the pass had been harrowing, as orcs seemed to come from every side as though drawn by the seemingly-easy target of a lone elf.

Their flight had lasted through the day into sunset, as the rain finally stopped and the clouds dispersed. He had pushed his horse to its limit, knowing that more lives than Legolas' hung in the balance now.

If he could find a patrol—or if a patrol would find him—he could send them back to aide the company. Gilfaroth's heart was pounding painfully, and he prayed that his wife and the others were still alive.

The horse stumbled, and Gilfaroth barely managed to keep his seat. He swung off the horse, still holding Legolas close. "It's all right," he murmured, gently patting the good animal's neck as it stood panting and heaving, its sides flecked with foam. "Thank you, Belamír," he whispered. "We're safe now."

The horse whickered, lowering its head tiredly. Gilfaroth sighed and patted the horse one more time, glancing down the path to Rivendell. They had been a little more than a day's journey from the city when the orcs had attacked.

"Legolas?" Gilfaroth knelt down, letting the elfling stand. "Are you all right?"

The prince nodded, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. "Where's Luni?" he asked.

"I hope she's safe," Gilfaroth replied with a sigh, thinking back to leaving his wife under the orc's attack. "Are you ready to keep going?"

Legolas nodded again, holding his arms up to be carried. Gilfaroth bit back a wry chuckle and lifted the elfling up, settling him against his hip. He could tell that the prince was exhausted—truth be told so was he. He did not want to stop unless they had to, so with Belamír trailing tiredly behind Gilfaroth hiked down the path.

"Halt! Who goes there!"

Gilfaroth breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been walking long, perhaps ten minutes, when the patrol halted him. "Gilfaroth of Mirkwood," he called back. "I am member of the household of King Thranduil."

An elf stepped out of the shadows of the wood. "Greetings," he called. "What brings you here, and on foot?" he asked, casting a curious glance at the elfling held in Gilfaroth's arms.

"I come on an urgent errand for Lord Elrond," Gilfaroth replied, recognizing the elf from a previous trip. "I was riding, but," the elf gestured wordlessly to Belamír. "Please, I need to see Lord Elrond as soon as possible. Orcs attacked my party in the High Pass, and I rode here as swiftly as I could."

Another elf appeared out of the shadows, leading a horse. "What errand is so urgent that you would risk such a flight."

"The king's son," Gilfaroth explained, gently brushing Legolas' hair aside so the other elves could see his face. "Prince Legolas."

"What happened to him?" the first elf asked in concern, noticing the paleness to the young face.

"It would take too long to explain," Gilfaroth said hurriedly, setting the sleeping elfling on the horse's broad back at the second elf's urging, mounting behind him. "My company is still in danger in the pass," he said, his voice tight with concern.

"We will go after them," the second elf said. "Someone will care for your horse and bring him up when he has recovered a bit," he added.

"Thank you," the wood-elf nodded gratefully, putting one arm around Legolas to steady him for the final leg of their journey.

The second elf nodded, gently swatting the horse's rump as Gilfaroth rode off.

Night was falling fast, and full darkness had come over the land by the time Gilfaroth reached the Last Homely House (or, rather, the First as it was sometimes called by those who traveled west). Exhaustion was pulling at him, and he barely noticed the elves who poured out of the house to take his horse and help him down.

The prince still clutched in his arms, Gilfaroth nearly stumbled as he was led through the crowd to a tall, regal elf.

"Lord Elrond," Gilfaroth bowed. "I am Gilfaroth of Mirkwood, here on behalf of King Thranduil."

Elrond nodded, gently taking Gilfaroth by the arm to lead him into the house. "Welcome to Rivendell," the older elf said formally.

Gilfaroth barely noticed that Lord Elrond was leading him to the healing rooms. He did not know if the rest of his company had fallen to the orcs, but he knew he had fulfilled the king's request.

Legolas was safe in Rivendell.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

PS: The plausible (I promise!) explanation for the Lorien Elves' appearance (yes, that's who they were) is in the next chapter, as well as the long-awaited arrival of Elladan and Elrohir.


	14. I: A Momentous Meeting

_AN: Here we are...the long-awaited introduction of Elladan and Elrohir. _

_Review Responses for last week are slightly delayed, but will be up tomorrow night (up to the last review I received before posting this chapter)._

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Chapter Thirteen: A Momentous Meeting

The morning sun cast odd shadows on the beams of the ceiling. Legolas studied them with interest—since the palace had been built into the mountain he hadn't seen many wooden beams in his life, and certainly none like these.

He sighed, looking down atthe splint that still encased his left arm. He had hated wearing it in Mirkwood because it seemed some sort of oddity to the elves there. Legolas might have been sick at that time, but he could still hear the healers whispering about how strange it was that his arm wasn't healing as quickly as it should be. But the elves here in Rivendell seemed different—at least the ones he'd met last night. Lord Elrond, the elf Ada had talked about, had taken one look at his arm and simply wrapped it up again, saying they would take care of it later.

Legolas wiggled further down in the bed, inching his way until his face was directly in the sunbeam coming from the window. He sighed again, this time more in contentment. The sun seemed brighter here...even warmer.

He could just see the branches of the trees outside, and as he studied them he wondered where Gilfaroth had gone. The older elf had stayed with him all night, but had left in the morning while Legolas was still asleep. Legolas hoped he had gone to find Luni and the others. He was worried about his sisters and all the other elves who had come with them.

The elfling pushed himself up, glancing toward the doorway with a cautious expression. The healers had all told him to rest, but none of them were in the room now. He carefully stood up, holding onto the bed to steady himself, and with shaky steps made it over to the window to look out.

The view nearly took his breath away. The healing room looked out over one of the gardens, and even in late summer it was still in bloom. Above all it was so bright. He could see elves going about between the house and the outbuildings, but none of them were rushed or worried like the elves in Mirkwood.

It was even better than Meluial had said it would be.

Legolas turned around, hearing voices coming up the hall. His eyes widened, an inexplicable fear of being discovered by some strange elf seizing his heart. He didn't have the strength to go anywhere, so he shuffled back over to the bed and ducked down beside it, hoping whoever came into the room wouldn't notice him.

Four or five elves came in, helping a dark-haired one limp over to the other bed.

"I really hope you're pleased with yourself," the injured elf groused.

"Me?" one of the other elves, who looked a lot like the injured elf, laughed. "Whyever would I be? It's not as though I made you step in that rabbit hole."

The injured elf groaned theatrically, throwing an arm over his eyes as the healers bustled about to remove one of his boots and slit his leggings up to his knee.

"I suppose you're right," the injured elf finally said with a sigh. "But please don't tell Ada."

"Oh, I think he'd be interested in this," the other elf replied. "He'd want to know that his beloved son...Elladan the Graceful...broke his ankle by tripping in a rabbit hole."

The injured elf—Elladan—groaned again, lobbing a pillow at the other elf. "Don't you dare tell him!"

"Or you'll do what? Hobble after me?" the other elf laughed gaily, easily ducking the other pillow Elladan launched toward him.

"That's enough," one of the healers snapped. "I'll not have you disturbing the entire wing with your antics."

The two elves meekly complied, the uninjured one picking up the pillows and gently placing them behind Elladan.

Legolas, from his hiding place beside the bed, watched the scene in fascination. The two elves were obviously brothers, but he'd never seen his brothers act that way toward each other. Ceretín and Relfían were similar, but they were cousins. And anyway, these were _grown up_ elves. Why were they acting like elflings?

"Right," the healer sighed, standing up. "I assume you know the directions by now?"

Elladan sighed loudly. "Rest, stay off it, don't exert myself, and whatever I do, don't stand on it just because it's feeling better. Wait until my healer tells me I can." He paused, staring at the healer for a moment. "You know, Elrohir and I are trained as healers, too."

"But that still doesn't give you a bit of common sense," the healer retorted, shaking his head. "Can I trust you to obey me this time?"

The injured elf looked at the healer, and Legolas thought he could see a mischievous grin on his face. "Of course," Elladan said smoothly. Legolas didn't believe his tone a bit—and he knew the healer didn't either.

"At least I tried," the healer muttered, leaving the room.

"I give you three hours," the uninjured elf said merrily.

"I'll be out of here in two," Elladan retorted.

"And Ada will have your hide," the other replied, laughing. "Too bad they put you in this bed...you can't even see out the window."

Legolas stiffened, drawing even further back against the bed as the elf came over to the window. He curled up as tightly as he could, hoping he wouldn't be seen.

It seemed he wouldn't. The elf just looked out window, standing before it for a moment to enjoy the fresh air. "Going rabbit hunting again soon, Elladan?" he asked teasingly.

Elladan growled something, shaking his head.

The other elf laughed, turning to survey the room. His eyes caught Legolas, and the prince froze.

"Hello," the elf said quietly, almost to himself. "Who are you?"

"What?" Elladan called from across the room.

"There's an elfling in here," the other elf said in surprise, kneeling in front of Legolas. "My name is Elrohir. What's yours?"

Legolas bit his lip, quavering for a moment in indecision. He didn't know these elves...but something inside him seemed to say that they were good. They reminded him of Lord Elrond, with the same dark hair and gray eyes, though they were a good bit less intimidating.

"Are you all right?" Elrohir asked, concern coloring his features.

"Legolas," he finally blurted out.

Elrohir's brow wrinkled in confusion, then a broad smile spread across his face. "Your name is Legolas," he said with a kind-sounding laugh. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Legolas."

Legolas managed a timid grin before dropping his eyes to study the floor.

"Are you here from Mirkwood?" Elrohir asked, ducking down to try to meet Legolas' eyes.

The prince nodded. "Ada sent me here," he said softly, sniffing back a tear.

Elrohir gently put a hand on Legolas' good arm. "Who is your father?"

"The king," Legolas replied.

Had he been looking up, he would have seen Elrohir's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "King Thranduil?"

Legolas nodded.

Elrohir chuckled again. "I thought you looked familiar," he said, the smile in his voice making Legolas look up. The older elf's eyes were so bright and merry he couldn't help but smile just a little, and this time his smile stayed on.

"Would you like to meet my brother?" Elrohir asked, indicating the bed where the injured elf lay. "He broke his ankle trying to race me through the garden today, but he'd be very happy to meet you, too."

Legolas couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply nodded and let Elrohir take his hand to lead him over to Elladan.

"I have to warn you," Elrohir said in a loud whisper. "We're twins, so everyone says we're identical. But they all know that _I'm_ the handsome one."

"Don't listen to him," Elladan protested, studying Legolas as the elfling walked over. "_I'm_ the handsome one."

"Very well," Elrohir sighed, helping Legolas up into a chair and sitting down on the edge of his brother's bed. "I would rather be the smart one, anyway."

Legolas couldn't hold in a small giggle as Elladan's mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of some comeback to his twin's insult.

"Legolas," Elrohir said grandly, "this is my brother Elladan. Elladan, this is Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood."

Elladan speared his brother with a sharp glare before turning to Legolas. "It is nice to meet you, Legolas," he said.

"Thank you," Legolas said quietly. Watching the twins as they lightheartedly bickered, Legolas couldn't quite keep a real smile from finally spreading across his face.

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The study had fallen uncomfortably silent as Lord Elrond studied the letter Thranduil had sent along with Gilfaroth. The captain's training barely kept him from fidgeting nervously as the elf-lord finally set the letter down and looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Can you help him?" Gilfaroth finally asked quietly.

"Yes."

The blunt reply wasn't quite what Gilfaroth had expected, and he blinked a few times, unsure of what he'd heard. "You can?" he asked.

The Lord of Imladris looked faintly amused at the captain's flummoxed response. "It is largely up to Prince Legolas and whether he wants to heal, but for my part I can help him."

Gilfaroth nearly collapsed in relief. "Then we're not too late."

Elrond smiled, looking back down at the letter. "I have been expecting something like this for some time," he admitted. He glanced back up, taking in the younger elf's bewildered expression. "The queen sent me a similar letter not long after Legolas was born," he explained.

The Mirkwood captain had begun to ask the elf-lord about Legolas' condition when another elf suddenly burst through the door. "Pardon me, Lord Elrond," the elf apologized, "but there is a large company of elves riding up, and some of them are injured."

Elrond glanced over at Gilfaroth, a concerned expression on his face. "Large company?" he asked, following the other elf out. "How many did you travel with?"

"There were eleven of us, including Legolas," Gilfaroth replied, wondering how nine elves could be considered a large company.

Gilfaroth stopped suddenly as he exited the house, his eyes widening at the chaotic scene in the yard. He could spot some of the green-and-brown-clad elves who had come with him from Mirkwood, and others that were certainly members of the patrol he'd encountered on his way in, but there were also a number of fair-haired, gray-cloaked elves he didn't recognize.

Shaking his head, he slowly approached the crowd, watching as some of the more seriously injured elves were carried into the house on litters. His heart skipped a painful beat when he saw a familiar face among the wounded, but was soon distracted when he heard his name called.

He spun around just in time to catch the she-elf who had flung herself at him, burying her face in his neck and trembling like a leaf.

"Luni?" he asked in concern, pushing his wife back enough to get a good look at her. "Are you all right?"

The princess nodded, brushing at a tear that was escaping her eye. Gilfaroth caught her hand, examining the faded bloodstains on it with a mixture of concern and horror.

"It's not mine," she said quietly. "I was helping Tirá with some of the more severely wounded."

Gilfaroth started at his sister-in-law's name. "Tirá? I thought she was in Lothlorien visiting Tinlith."

"She was," Luinlothiel nodded, gesturing toward a blonde elf-maid who was currently helping one of Elrond's healers look after an injured warrior. "She said she was on her way home when the storms hit, they and turned aside to come to Rivendell rather than risk travelling until the ground has a chance to dry. I guess we were lucky they were there...they saved all of our lives."

The captain sighed, thinking that it was more than luck that brought the Lothlorien company to the pass that night, and gently kissed his wife on the forehead. "Where is Meluial?"

Luinlothiel's smile faded a bit. "I think she already went inside. Brithdil..."

"I saw him," Gilfaroth nodded, wincing at the memory of the younger captain being carried into the house. "He'll be all right," he assured her softly.

"I know," Luni struggled for a moment to regain her composure. "The wound was not serious, but the arrow was poisoned. He's been feverish and...to tell the truth, I think Meluial was afraid he would die."

Gilfaroth sighed, wrapping his arms around his wife and holding her close. "He'll be all right," he said again, confidently. He could feel her shaking as she finally released the tension of the last day, and knew it was only a matter of time before exhaustion caught up with her.

"Excuse me?"

The dark-haired elf looked up, noticing one of Lord Elrond's sons standing just inside the doorway. "Yes?" he asked, wondering which twin this was.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm looking for," the elf hesitated, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. "I'm looking for someone named Luni?"

Luinlothiel pulled away from Gilfaroth, straightening her skirt a bit. "I am she...but my name is Luinlothiel. Who sent you?"

The elf smiled a bit. "Legolas...we heard the company come in and he is a little frantic to see you."

"Oh!" Luinlothiel gasped. "Legolas...I'd better go."

"Luni," Gilfaroth grabbed her arm, glancing down at her mud-spattered clothes and the blood and grime that still clung to her. "You might want to consider cleaning up first."

Luinlothiel looked down, blushing faintly. "Ah, of course."

The elf stepped forward, the hesitant expression still on his face. "Is there any way I can help?"

"I think we can manage," Gilfaroth said, gently steering his wife toward the guestroom he'd been given the night before—which had gone unused as he had spent the night in the healing room with Legolas. "Thank you," he said gratefully, glancing curiously at the elf as he realized he'd never given a name.

"Elrohir," the elf supplied.

"Thank you, Lord Elrohir," Gilfaroth replied. He steadied Luinlothiel as the she-elf suddenly swayed, her exhaustion finally taking hold, and carefully led her into the house.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_The rest of the explanation of Haldir & Company's rather timely appearance in the High Pass is in the next chapter (a certain Lady had something to do with it)._

_Note:Tirá and Tinlith were both mentioned in _Beginnings_, and Tinlith was mentioned earlier in this story as having been sent to Lothlorien when she was an elfling. I had already planned this story with Tirá visiting her sister in Lothlorien, though I hadn't been able to work any mention of it in until now. Tirá will not get more than a brief mention in this story, though, since my other OC's have more than enough of the spotlight._


	15. I: Explanations and Decisions

_AN: Well, folks, I was working on my review responses last night (I was! I promise!) when the power suddenly blew. It came back on a moment later, but with the added bonus of throwing the internet server out so I couldn't get to my email. So I worked on the story instead. Review responses are up now (link on my profile), and here's chapter fourteen._

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Chapter Fourteen: Explanations and Decisions 

"But Ada," had Elladan been younger, he would have resorted to whining. As it was, he was merely trying to convince his father. "It's only across the room. How could I hurt myself going across the room?"

Elrond raised one eyebrow, regarding his son with a look that mingled patience and incredulity. A look he commonly used with his sons. "One might also wonder how you could hurt yourself walking through the gardens."

"But he wasn't walking," Elrohir piped in, much to his twin's annoyance. "He was running."

The elf-lord glanced over at the younger twin, his expression somewhat sharpening. "And you're entirely innocent in this?"

Elrohir looked down, the slightest blush stealing onto his face. "I didn't _make_ him fall," he muttered.

"Ada," Elladan grabbed his father's attention again, putting on the most pitiful face he could muster. "It's only my ankle, and I would only be going as far as the window. Please?"

The face had worked on his father—and all the adult elves of Imladris—when Elladan was an elfling, but it was somewhat less effective now that he was grown. Elrond did not sigh or roll his eyes, but his sons could sense their father's exasperation.

"Please, Ada?" Elrohir added, leaping up to drag an armchair over to the window as though to demonstrate that Elladan would be comfortable. "I'll even carry him over if that's the only way you'll let him."

The smile that Elrond had been trying to hide finally broke loose, just slightly. "You would rather do this than try to escape Emyntur's grasp?" he asked, thinking of the healer who had, unluckily, been assigned to keep the injured Elladan out of trouble.

"Yes," Elladan said seriously.

In that moment, Elrond did not know if he had ever been more proud of his sons.

After the wood-elves' arrival the day before, Legolas, who had been staying in this room under the healers' care, had been taken away by his older sister. She and her husband had kept him with them through the day and the night, yet Elrond had to insist that they bring him back to be cared for by a healer. He also needed to discuss the young prince's condition with Luinlothiel and her husband, and did not want Legolas present for that discussion.

He was going to ask if another member of their company would be willing to look after Legolas, as the elfling's condition was still rather frail, but when his sons had gotten wind of it they had begged for the opportunity.

Apparently, the short time they'd spent with Legolas had left a lasting impression. More than simply seeing a sickly elfling who should not be left alone, both Elladan and Elrohir had asserted that they wanted to befriend him.

They had also insisted that he be allowed to stay in the bed by the window, and that Elladan, broken ankle and all, hobble over to sit by him.

"Very well," Elrond finally assented, after remaining silent for a few moments to make his sons worry (just recompense, he thought, for all the worry they'd caused him over the millennia). "_If_ he agrees to come and _if_ you, Elladan, promise to stay off that leg."

"Oh, he will, Ada," Elrohir interjected brightly.

Elrond thought about asking Elrohir who he meant, but decided it wasn't entirely important. "He should be with his sister now," Elrond said, turning to leave.

For a moment he considered telling his sons that Haldir was visiting, but decided they probably deserved being kept ignorant this time.

Besides, their reaction to the Lórien elf's appearance might amuse Legolas.

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Luinlothiel and Gilfaroth were already nervously awaiting Lord Elrond in his study as the elf-lord entered.

"How is he?" Gilfaroth demanded, jumping to his feet as soon as the door opened.

Elrond waved a hand for them both to sit down, pausing in the door to quietly ask one of the passing elves to send some refreshment up.

"He should make a full recovery," Elrond finally said, sitting heavily in his chair. His meeting with the Princess and Captain of Mirkwood had been delayed when one of the other healers had called for Lord Elrond's help. Brithdil, one of the elves who had fallen to a poisoned arrow, had not reacted well to the antidote the healer administered. The poison had been stronger than they had thought, and had it not been for the other healer's quick thinking the captain might not have survived.

"What happened to him?" Gilfaroth asked worriedly, gripping his wife's hand so tightly that she gave a tiny flinch.

"An orc trick," Elrond explained, glancing up as a servant entered carrying a tray with tea and an assortment of biscuits. "It is not common, but neither is it so rare as to be completely unexpected."

The couple looked confused, worry still coloring the captain's features. "What do you mean?" Luinlothiel asked calmly, gently rubbing the back of Gilfaroth's hand to calm him.

"They used different poisons. Many orc bands will all use the same poison, but occasionally there will be some that divide two or three among their archers, in hopes that the healers will not realize what has happened until it's too late."

"But he's all right now?"

Elrond smiled reassuringly at the younger elf. "Not quite, but he will be in a day or two."

Gilfaroth nearly collapsed with relief, and Luinlothiel gave him a gentle smile. "What about my brother?"

The elf-lord sighed. "Your husband explained what happened," he said slowly. "He also explained that there are suspicions that it was not, in fact, an accident."

Husband and wife glanced at each other, hesitation in their faces.

"It does not matter at this moment," Elrond interjected, holding a hand up to forestall any comments. "If it was not accidental he will be safe here, away from anyone who could have hurt him. What matters now is your brother's condition."

Luinlothiel stiffened noticeably, her hand tightening around her husband's. Elrond felt a slight flash of sadness, knowing that Thranduil himself should be here to hear about his son rather than being forced to send his daughter in his place. "To put it simply," Elrond began, "Legolas is terrified."

He could see that his words weren't entirely shocking to the she-elf who had sat at her brother's bedside as his sleep was constantly disturbed by nightmares.

"Whether this is terror of an elf who harmed him or due to an accident I cannot say," the elf-lord continued, "but it is fear that is affecting him this way."

Gilfaroth shook his head, as though unable to understand it. "_How_?" he asked.

"His fear has given the Shadow a foothold," Elrond explained. "It has left his heart with a wound that cannot be healed except with time and love, away from the Shadow."

The princess slumped in her seat. "So he must stay here," she whispered painfully, her eyes filling with tears.

Elrond nodded sympathetically. He knew she had held out hope that he could simply heal the elfling and they could go home together.

"Even if circumstances were different, Luni," Gilfaroth said softly, "we couldn't take him home until we were sure he'd be safe. Even if it was an accident, what if something worse were to happen?"

"I know," Luinlothiel sighed. "He would be safer here."

And so with heavy hearts it was agreed that Lord Elrond would foster Legolas until he reached adulthood, and then the prince would be given the choice of returning home or remaining in Rivendell.

Tears flowing freely, Luinlothiel could only bury her face in her husband's shoulder and weep as he led her away.

Eighty years was a long time for an elfling to be parted from his family.

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"So, this is where you've been hiding?"

Elrohir jumped, startled, and whirled around to see the intruder, nearly losing his balance as he did. Elladan laughed at this, tossing a cheeky grin toward the light-haired elf standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Elrohir exclaimed.

"Not that we aren't happy to see you," Elladan quickly interjected.

"But...what are you doing here?"

Haldir shook his head, drawing a chair up to sit near the twins. "That is a long story," he commented wryly.

"Haldir, this is Legolas," Elrohir said by way of introduction.

The Lórien elf raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Princess Tinlith's brother?"

Legolas looked up, his eyes widening. "You know Tinlith?" he asked softly, surprised to find someone who knew his sister out here in Imladris.

"Haldir is from Lothlórien," Elladan explained. "Though I don't understand why he's here."

"There were Lórien elves in the courtyard yesterday," Elrohir suddenly said, slapping his forehead in realization. "I didn't know you were there."

"I probably wasn't," Haldir replied dryly. "I was _busy_," he said, nodding toward the elfling. Thankfully, Elrohir seemed to understand that Haldir meant he had been helping the wounded but didn't want to discuss it in front of Legolas.

"But what are you doing _here_," Elladan asked, repeating Elrohir's questions from before. "We hadn't heard you were coming to visit Imladris or we would have prepared a welcome for you."

Haldir shook his head. "I can only imagine what that would be."

"Seriously, Haldir, _how_ did you come to be in Rivendell? Not that we regret seeing you..."

"We were escorting Princess Tirá home to Mirkwood," Haldir explained. "The rains hit, and we turned aside to wait out the change in weather here. Your father has always said we were welcome."

"Of course you are," Elrohir said with a cheery nod, turning to pull Legolas' blanket up a bit higher as a gust of wind blew through the window. "I heard you saved the Mirkwood company coming through the pass."

"Ah, _that_ is an interesting tale!" Elladan crowed. "How did you manage that?"

Haldir stared at Elladan. "We defeated the orcs," he deadpanned.

It took the twins a moment to realize Haldir was joking, but Elladan finally laughed. "I meant how did you manage to come in time to help them? Fairly convenient timing, wasn't it?"

"Lady Galadriel," Haldir said, by way of explanation.

"Galadriel is our grandmother," Elladan explained to Legolas, shifting in the chair and wincing when he moved his ankle. Haldir noticed this with some concern, and easily slipped the footstool further under the twin's injured leg. "She's rather gifted with foresight," he added unnecessarily, as even an elfling as young as Legolas was well aware of Lady Galadriel's reputation.

"We were preparing to leave, and she rather strongly suggested we wait a few more days before departing," Haldir said. "Had we not, we would have continued through the rains rather than turning aside."

"I had wondered," Elrohir commented, "why you would not have simply come up the western side of the mountains if you were coming here."

"Awfully coincidental detour," Elladan agreed with a grin and a short laugh.

"It wasn't a coincidence," Elrohir argued. "Merely a convenient occurrence."

"Ah. Convenient to both sides, of course."

"Of course. Now Haldir need not go all the way to Mirkwood."

"Unless he wishes to."

"Would he?"

"I don't know...what could possibly draw him to visit Mirkwood?"

"Suppose we should ask him?"

"Of course."

In one accord, the twins turned to face the Lórien elf.

Legolas glanced back and forth with a puzzled expression, having gotten lost at some point during the twins' discussion. Haldir, too, looked a bit disconcerted.

"If you're asking if I'm planning on visiting here for a time, the answer is no," Haldir replied. "We are still accompanying the princess to Mirkwood, to...aide the company on their journey home," Haldir finished lamely, barely remembering not to mention in front of the elfling that several of the wood-elves from Mirkwood had been seriously injured. As his company had already been going to Mirkwood, they had decided to finish their journey before returning home rather than letting Lord Elrond send an escort out of Imladris.

"Too bad," Elrohir sighed, leaning back in his chair and grinning over at his twin and Legolas.

Haldir knew that look far too well, having been on the receiving end of the twins' pranks during their visits to Lothlórien.

"Legolas," he suddenly said, shooting his own grin at the twins, "did Elladan and Elrohir ever tell you about the time they painted a picture in the bottom of their grandmother's fountain to make her think she was having a vision?"

"Haldir!" Elladan protested. "We were elflings at the time!"

"_Were_?"

Laughter filled the room as the three elves traded stories about each other, each trying to top the last in an attempt to make the young prince giggle even harder.

And Elrond, pausing just outside the room, smiled.

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _


	16. I: The Company Departs

_AN: Watch out, this chapter's a bit sad. Also, a little short, but I honestly couldn't make it any longer. _

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Chapter Fifteen: The Company Departs

The next few days passed quickly as the elves from Mirkwood and Lothlórien recovered from the battle with the orcs. At Lord Elrond's urging, Luinlothiel had slowly begun to distance herself from her brother, letting him grow attached to Elladan and Elrohir.

The hardest part had been the first night he stayed with the twins. Luinlothiel had been detained after dinner visiting the other elves in the healing wing, and had come to Legolas' room to find that the elfling had fallen asleep leaning against Elladan. She knew it was a good thing that he was able to trust the twins even though he hadn't known them for very long, but she was also saddened as it meant the Mirkwood party would be leaving soon.

All too soon for Luinlothiel, the day of their departure arrived.

The injured elves had healed enough for the journey, even those who, like Brithdil, had come close to death from poisoned wounds.

Because they had been preparing Legolas for this separation for a few days now, the good-byes were a bit less traumatic than those said when the company was leaving Mirkwood.

All the same, Luinlothiel's throat was tight with tears as she kissed her brother one final time. Gilfaroth had promised that they would come back to visit, but part of her was still afraid that it would be decades before that could happen.

Legolas wrapped his arms around her neck, squeezing her tightly in a hug. "I'll miss you, Luni," he whispered.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around him. "I'll miss you, too," she whispered back. She glanced up, catching the concerned eyes of Lord Elrond's sons. She did not know if it was some gift inherited from their father or grandmother, but in a handful of days Elladan and Elrohir had done more to help her brother recover than the Mirkwood healers had done in a week.

Legolas pulled away, his blue eyes sad. "Don't cry Luni," he said, gently patting her hand. "It's not forever."

Luni almost laughed, biting her lip as she could no longer hold back her tears. "Don't grow up too fast, Legolas," she said shakily.

As though by some hidden signal, Elrohir gently lifted Legolas down from Luinlothiel's mare. For a moment she was afraid the elfling would cling to her, like he had to Thranduil before, but to her relief he hesitantly went with the dark-haired elf.

"Watch over him?" the she-elf begged.

Elrohir nodded solemnly. "Have a safe journey."

Luinlothiel wiped at her eyes, shooting Tirá a grateful glance when the younger princess reached over to squeeze her hand in support. Meluial, on Tirá's other side, smiled sadly.

She barely heard what Lord Elrond spoke over the company, numbly following her husband and the others out of Imladris.

She had cared for her brother for ten years, but now that time was ended.

It was time for someone else to take care of him.

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Elrohir stood beside his brother, watching the Mirkwood caravan disappear from their sight.

The elf-prince in his arms wiggled a bit and sighed heavily, leaning his head against Elrohir's shoulder with an audible sniff.

"Ada?" Elladan asked quietly. "Is he really staying until he comes of age?"

Lord Elrond glanced over at his sons and the prince, his expression grave. "Yes," he replied with a short nod. "Mirkwood is no longer safe."

Elrohir sighed, tightening his grip on Legolas just slightly as he felt the elfling begin to cry. "It will be all right," he murmured.

His father placed a hand on the young elf's back, a kind smile on his face. "You will be safe here," he said gently. "Nothing can enter this valley that could harm you."

The elfling nodded, his face still buried in Elrohir's shoulder.

It was Elladan's turn to sigh, and when Elrohir looked over at him he could see some plot brewing in his twin's mind.

"Remember what Haldir did that first summer Ada sent us to stay in Lothlórien?" Elladan asked, a slight spark of mischief in his eye.

Elrohir shook his head in mock exasperation. Haldir was nearly a century older than the twins, and he had already come of age when Elrond decided to send the twins to stay with their grandparents for a time. The twins had been very upset when their parents left, and Haldir (with a little advice from some of the older elves) had immediately involved Elladan and Elrohir in as many activities as he could. By the end of the day the twins were too exhausted to be sad.

Their father chuckled knowingly. "Just remember, he's still a very little elfling and not exactly in the best of health."

Elladan shot his father an innocent look, and turned to maneuver his crutches up the steps of the house (even though he thought his ankle was healed, Emyntur insisted that he stay on the crutches—though Elrohir knew Elladan suspected it was some twisted sort of revenge on the healer's part).

"Um, 'Dan?" Elrohir murmured, glancing up at their father's retreating back. "What exactly is your plan? You aren't exactly in any shape to do anything either, you know."

The older twin made a face. "I would be except for Emyntur," he grumbled. "He's a menace."

"You did promise Ada that you wouldn't do anything," Elrohir happily reminded his brother, easily dodging a swat from him and pausing to roll his eyes theatrically when Legolas looked at him. "Elladan is so grumpy when he has to obey the healers," he whispered loudly, earning a glare from his twin.

Elladan shook his head. "Anyway, Elrohir," he continued, emphasizing every syllable of his brother's name, "I was thinking we could visit the library."

Elrohir grinned. He had taken Legolas to the library one day while Elladan was still recovering, and the elfling had loved it. "And then perhaps out to the gardens?" he suggested.

"Of course," Elladan nodded.

Settling the elfling on his hip, Elrohir slowly followed his brother up the stairs.

_End of Part One_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

Note: this is NOT the end of the story, just the first part. The second will pick up about a month after this chapter ends.

_I am going out of town on Thursday, so rather than post the first chapter of the next part and then wait a week to post the next, I'm going to wait until I get back to start part two of the story (wish me luck—I'm trying to find a job as I'm planning to move there within the next month)._


	17. II: Returning

_AN: Hey, y'all! I'm ba-ack, and man is it good to be among sane people again! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up...I was out of town for a week then had a disappointing week of waiting for the call back from the manager who had all-but-assured me I'd have a job. So it all starts again...eh well, I didn't really want to be a bank teller anyway. _

_Anyway, the reason why I didn't start this up last week was because I had to make some serious structural changes to the story. I had originally intended for it to be four parts long, with the second part taking place a few months after Legolas' arrival in Rivendell. Well, looking back over everything that part of the story began to drag, and there was really only one or two things in it that had to do with the story, both of which that could be put into a later part without taking anything away. So I decided to cut that part. Now, please don't get too upset if you were looking forward to something from that timeline, I have set aside all the tangents and mini-plots and things I had planned for that part to work into a later story or stories that would take place during Legolas' years in Rivendell._

_This next part of the story takes place eighty-six years after the first part. Legolas is 110 (young adult--think around 18-21). By now he would be considered about the same age as Ceretín and Relfían._

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**Part Two: A Lie Discovered **

_Spring, 2575 TA_

Chapter Sixteen: Returning

"Now, don't be frightened," Elladan said quietly as the three elves rode ahead of their contingent of guards.

Legolas shook his head. "Why would I be frightened?" he asked, masking his uncertainty with a lighthearted tone.

"I was talking to Elrohir," the dark-haired elf retorted with a knowing smile. "Your father's palace is a bit...imposing...compared to our father's home."

"Imposing is a good way to describe it," Elrohir volunteered.

"I used to live here, Elladan," the young prince reminded his friend.

The twins exchanged identical glances. "That was nearly a century ago," Elrohir replied quietly. "Things change."

The road rounded a corner, and the dark-haired elves stopped their friend just before they rode into sight of the palace. "Are you ready?" Elladan asked seriously. He and Elrohir had been looking after Legolas for the last eighty-six years...he wasn't about to stop now.

Legolas nodded seriously. All joking aside, he was nervous at the prospect of returning home. He had never once returned to the Mirkwood palace in the years he had lived in Rivendell, and had rarely seen his family. His father, King Thranduil, had only been able to visit twice. He had seen most of his sisters more often, and his brother-in-law, though he could not remember much about his brothers. He knew he had two, but the oldest was crown prince and could leave the kingdom about as often as his father could, and the other served in the royal army and, Legolas had heard, was often out battling the forces that besieged the wood-elves.

"Here we are," Elladan announced, leading Legolas' horse around the bend and down the path to the palace.

The twins looked over, grinning as their friend grew suddenly silent and wide-eyed. They had come to the palace several times in their lives, whether to deliver news or attend political functions. Elladan and Elrohir were only a little younger than Prince Belegdur, though the wood-elf had never "deigned" to befriend them.

"Are you sure?" Legolas asked in a whisper. "It...it's smaller than I remember it."

Elrohir blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing at the rueful smile he saw on his friend's face. Of course, it might look a bit smaller since Legolas had only been twenty-four when he had last seen it...but it couldn't look _too_ much smaller.

"The guard will announce you at the gate," Elrohir murmured, nudging his horse closer to the prince's. "We sent word of our arrival...there should be many there to greet you."

Legolas nodded again, straightening his shoulders just slightly. He was a prince of Mirkwood—Greenwood, he mentally corrected, knowing his father's preference for that name. He would not let himself be frightened by his own homecoming.

When the riders approached the gate, Elladan and Elrohir hung back a bit and let Legolas go ahead of them. The prince held his head high as the guards immediately dropped to one knee. "Welcome home, Prince Legolas," one of the guards said warmly as the other turned to announce Legolas' arrival.

"Thank you," Legolas smiled at the guard, but his gaze was distracted as one of the trees caught his attention. It was a gnarled thing, bent over as if it didn't have the will to grow as straight as the ones around it. Legolas was puzzled. He didn't know what could have caused the tree to grow in such a way, but looking at it sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

Grooms rushed forward to take his horse and his pack, and he found himself lost in a sea of elves welcoming him home. He forced himself to smile as face after face appeared, each exclaiming how wonderful it was to see him again. _Again?_ He thought. _I don't remember seeing them a first time._

"All right, give him some air," Elladan finally said, loudly. He and Elrohir flanked Legolas, effectively pushing away some of the wood-elves.

"Legolas!"

The prince looked up, hearing a very welcome voice in the crowd. "Captain Brithdil!" Legolas leapt forward, embracing the faithful captain. Brithdil had visited as often as he could—which was more often than any of Legolas' family since he was only a captain. Legolas had seen him every three or four years, and had grown to think of the captain as a friend.

Brithdil smiled, but gently pushed Legolas away. The prince suddenly noticed the strange murmurs in the crowd, and his cheeks reddened. He had apparently just done something un-princely, though his head was now buzzing with embarrassment and he couldn't quite figure out what he had done that was so wrong.

"It's good to see you again," Brithdil said quietly. "Your father is waiting for you."

Legolas' heart leapt into his throat. He looked beyond Brithdil to the steps of the palace, where a tall, blond-haired elf was waiting.

With his friends' encouragement following him, he walked through the crowd to the steps of the palace. The gathered elves had fallen silent, and he had the strange feeling that he was on display, that they were watching to see what happened next.

"So," the light-haired elf said coldly. "This is how you have learned to conduct yourself?"

Legolas shivered unconsciously. Something about this elf set him a bit on edge...but why? "I greet you," he finally said, bowing.

The other elf sprang forward, grabbing his arm. "Do not bow to me," the elf hissed, brown eyes flashing. "I am your brother, Belegdur. Don't you remember me?"

The younger prince swallowed. Yes, he recognized Belegdur now. But he seemed to remember his brother as a bit...nicer. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Belegdur sighed. "No, I apologize. I should have realized you wouldn't remember me after so long." He glanced over the crowd, his gaze steeling as it fell on Elladan and Elrohir. "Adar will want to see you," he said shortly.

Releasing the younger elf's arm, Belegdur turned to stride into the palace, stopping to look over his shoulder as Legolas stood rooted to the spot. "Are you coming?"

Legolas quickly followed, rubbing his arm quietly. His brother hadn't hurt him, but the way he grabbed his arm...it triggered the awful memories Legolas had tried to put behind him. He shook his head, numbly ignoring the stares of the elves they passed. That had happened eighty-six years ago...surely he would be safe here now. Surely he had no reason to fear his old nurse anymore—he was an adult now, after all.

"I would say you need to change from your travel clothes first," Belegdur said with a sniff, stopping in front of highly-decorated double doors. "But Adar specifically said to bring you to him the moment you arrived."

Belegdur stopped, suddenly turning to look Legolas over with a critical eye. Then the older prince smiled with a hint of encouragement. "I am glad to see you again," he said. "He's waiting for you."

With that, Belegdur pushed the doors to the throne room open. Legolas took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

The throne room was a magnificent hall, filled with pillars carved to depict flowering vines. At the other end of the room he saw two empty thrones, with a handful of attendants milling about. He slowly walked toward the king's throne, stopping at the foot of the platform on which the throne sat.

Legolas' gaze flickered to the second throne, the one he knew had belonged to his mother. He could barely remember her, he had been a very small elfling when she was killed.

He heard a soft intake of breath behind him and stiffened. Years of training with Elladan and Elrohir had kept him from jumping at the slightest sounds, but he was still uncomfortable knowing someone was behind him.

"Legolas?"

The prince started, whirling around. He knew that voice, though it had been decades since he'd heard it. "Ada?"

Thranduil smiled broadly, his stern features relaxing. Remembering his manners Legolas started to kneel, but his father pulled him up and gently embraced him. "My son...you've returned to me at last."

The king released his son, taking a step back to study the young elf. "You must be tired," he said, a bit brusquely. "Elladan and Elrohir have been placed in a room in the guest wing. Yours has been aired out. I will have one of the servants show you, unless you remember the way."

A bit startled at this reception, Legolas numbly accepted the servant's help. The maid excitedly chattered with him as she led him to the royal wing, explaining where certain hallways led and pointing out rooms she often cleaned. Legolas listened with half an ear, his thoughts whirling. His father...he hadn't seen his father in almost sixty years, and the king had simply brushed him off.

Once the maid had left, Legolas pushed open the shutters of his window to look out over the broad green field between the palace and the wall. He could see many elves going about their business, and a long caravan of some sort was just arriving.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, but before he could answer the door was pushed open and two identical elves entered.

"You _are_ in here," Elladan commented. "We were hoping you'd be here."

Elrohir shook his head, exasperated. "Elladan was afraid you'd still be with your father."

"No," Legolas sighed, leaning against the wall heavily. "He greeted me then sent me off to rest."

The twins exchanged glances. "He probably doesn't know how to act," Elrohir said hurriedly.

"Aye, it's not often a long-absent prince returns," Elladan agreed. "Give him a bit more time...I'm sure he's happy to see you."

Legolas made a soft, noncommittal sound and crossed his arms over his chest. He could hear the voices of the trees through the window, and it made him smile.

"There's a banquet tonight," Elrohir said, breaking the silence. "It's in honor of your return."

"It seems most of the kingdom is coming," Elladan added.

The twins continued to talk, eventually breaking into good-natured bickering, but Legolas barely heard them. He turned back to the window, straining his ears to hear one voice over the others. One of the trees was apologizing, over and over.

He frowned, shaking his head slowly. He was about to disregard the tree's message, but in a flash of memory he understood. The gnarled tree by the gate...it was the one he and his friends had been climbing all those years ago the day he fell.

Head swimming, he gripped the windowsill tightly for support. The memories came crashing back in waves, each one more frightening than the last. He had never told Elrond or the twins the truth of what had happened, though they had been suspicious that there was more to the tale than a simple accident. But he had recovered so quickly in Rivendell that they had put off any confrontation, then in the turmoil surrounding Celebrían's capture and departure it had simply been forgotten.

And that was where he'd hoped to leave it, but being back in Mirkwood brought all of those memories to the forefront again. Legolas closed his eyes, the tree's apologies still echoing through his head, as that horrible day swam up again. For an awful moment he thought he was an elfling again, and Amarthwen was dragging him down to the dungeons to leave him where no one would ever find him.

"Legolas?" Elladan's hand on his shoulder brought the prince out of his thoughts, and he blinked at the world around him for a moment in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Legolas replied quietly. "Just lost in my thoughts."

Elrohir frowned, and he and Elladan shared a glance that said they didn't believe a word of what Legolas was saying. "Are you sure?" Elrohir pressed.

Legolas nodded, not trusting his voice, and walked to his wardrobe and flung it open. Someone had unpacked his clothes in the short time he'd been with his father, and he studied the robes he'd brought with him from Rivendell. "You should go and get ready for the banquet," he commented softly.

"The banquet doesn't start for several hours," Elrohir replied.

The three elves were interrupted by another knock at the door, but Legolas didn't look over as the newcomer simply opened the door to peek in.

"I'm sorry," a familiar voice said contritely. "I did not know the prince had visitors."

Legolas froze as though he had been dropped into a lake in winter. He knew that voice...it still came to him in his darkest dreams. Swallowing his fear and trying desperately to still his pounding heart, he slowly turned to face the icy-eyed elf-maid.

"Hello, Amarthwen."_

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_MWAHAHAHAHA...sorry...I meant to say: Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_PS: Review Responses for the last three weeks will _Finally_ be posted Tuesday night._


	18. II: Renewing Old Acquaintances

_AN: Man, you guys are the best! Your reviews really made a rather tiring and smelly day so much better, so here's the next chapter!_

_There was a general question from reviews for the last chapter I wanted to address. It's explained in this chapter, but I'm just going to go ahead and put the answer up here, too. Amarthwen is not "still" in the palace...she's "back" in the palace. In this chapter she says that she did leave shortly after Legolas did, but came back when she heard he was returning. So that's how she can still be around even after all the suspicions surrounding her._

_By the by, Belegdur isn't the big ol' meanie he turns into later just yet...I just wrote him acting that way because he doesn't really handle frustration well, and he was off-kilter because he was caught off-guard when Legolas didn't recognize him._

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Chapter Seventeen: Renewing Old Acquaintances

Amarthwen smiled brightly. "It's so good to see you again, Legolas," she said cheerfully.

The prince stiffened, unsure of what to make of her actions. "Wh-why are you still here?"

"Prince Legolas!" the former nurse exclaimed, taking a step back as though in shock. "I wanted to see you...is that such a horrible thing?"

Legolas looked down at the floor, swallowing back his unease. He could feel Elladan's and Elrohir's eyes on him, and knew he had to say something before they grew too suspicious. "I was merely wondering why you were here...I thought you would have left years ago," he said quietly.

Amarthwen laughed. "I did go back to the village when you left, but when I heard you were returning I simply had to come back. After all, I had to see how my little elfling grew up."

The prince straightened, looking up to meet her gaze. He could still see the same cold light dancing behind her ice-blue eyes, but he wasn't an elfling anymore. "I'm not a little elfling, Amarthwen," he retorted, barely keeping his tone civil and provoking more strange glances from the twins. "I'm a grown elf now."

The she-elf smiled again, but it seemed to be more calculating than pleasant to Legolas. "You'll always be that little elfling to me...you'll never be so grown that I won't need to take care of you."

A cold shudder ran down Legolas' spine, and he looked down to the floor again. He wanted to bite out a retort about the sort of care Amarthwen had given him in the past, but in truth part of him was still afraid of her, even after eighty-six years.

"Well," Elrohir suddenly spoke up, stepping in between Amarthwen and Legolas. "I'm sure you and the prince have a lot of catching up to do, but he is weary from his journey. Perhaps another time?"

As if by some unspoken agreement, Elladan moved to stand beside his brother, effectively blocking Legolas from sight. "Yes, another time...thank you for stopping by."

"Very well," Amarthwen replied lightly. "I'm sure we'll have _plenty_ of time in the future to remember the past," she added, and Legolas glanced up with a shiver to see the dark gleam in her eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Elladan effectively shoved the she-elf out of the door, resting his back against it as though to keep her out. "What was that all about?"

Legolas shook his head, sitting weak-kneed on the edge of his bed. How could he possibly tell anyone now? Part of his mind rationalized that if he told the twins they could protect him, but too much of him was still afraid.

"Legolas?" Elrohir sat next to the prince on the bed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "Just surprised to see her," he explained lamely. "I never thought I'd see her again."

He could tell the twins weren't convinced. "What happened? Did she do something to you when you lived here before?" Elrohir pressed.

Elladan's eyes narrowed. "Is she the one who..."

"No!" Legolas interrupted his friend. "I was just surprised to see her. Please excuse me, I am tired." He turned away from the twins, not wanting to continue the conversation. He was afraid, but not only for himself. If he told Elladan and Elrohir they would most likely confront her, not realizing how dangerous she was.

"Very well," Elrohir finally said quietly. "We're just down the next hall if you need us, though."

Legolas glanced up as the twins left. "She did," he whispered as they closed the door, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Amarthwen..." he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, and rested his head against his knees miserably.

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"You don't believe him for a moment, do you?" Elladan demanded as Elrohir lead the way down the hall.

Elrohir glanced over at him grimly. "Why would he be lying? Just because he nearly jumped out of his skin when you started to accuse her doesn't mean he's hiding something," he replied sarcastically.

Elladan rolled his eyes rather eloquently. "I'm going to keep an eye on her," he announced.

His twin nodded in agreement. "I'll stick close to Legolas, maybe we can figure out what's really going on."

The two continued walking in silence for a moment. "'Dan, do you remember when Legolas first came to Rivendell?"

Elladan snorted. "How could I forget? It was just before you challenged me to that race in the garden and I twisted my ankle."

Elrohir chuckled. "Remember the way he used to act? How he wouldn't go down into the cellar unless the door was wedged open?"

"Remember the first time he saw Nana?" Elladan added in a low voice. "Something about her terrified him...and look at Amarthwen."

The younger twin nodded in agreement. He could well remember that day. Their mother, Celebrían, had gone in to wake the young prince one morning, just a few days after the Mirkwood elves had left for home. Somehow she had scared him, and the twins had run into the room to Legolas curled up in one corner, terrified.

Legolas had not quite regained his strength at that point, and they had assumed he'd simply been startled out of a nightmare and the unfamiliar face of their mother had frightened him. As soon as he had gotten to know her, she no longer frightened him. But it was still odd.

"Now you're wondering if he thought Nana was that nurse," Elrohir mused. Though the two she-elves did not look alike, they both were golden-haired and blue-eyed.

"Exactly," Elladan nodded.

Elrohir shook his head. "But surely he would have told us if something had happened. Do you think she might have hurt him?"

"I'm not sure. I did hear rumors, once, that someone may have locked him down in the dungeons that day...but it was just a rumor."

With a sigh, Elrohir stopped in front of the door to their room. "I guess the only thing we can do is try to keep anything else from happening to him."

Elladan grinned. "That's what brothers are for."

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The twins met up with Legolas just before the banquet to escort him down to the main hall. They had forgone dressing identically this time, in hopes that it would help Legolas' acceptance back among the wood-elves.

Legolas clenched his jaw nervously. The receptions he'd received earlier that day hadn't done much for his confidence, and even with Elladan and Elrohir at his side he was a little tense about the coming banquet.

A servant at the door announced his entrance, and the entire room hushed as the prodigal prince of Mirkwood entered. He swallowed nervously, glancing up to the high table where his father was sitting for some measure of reassurance.

Thranduil gave the younger elf an encouraging smile, nodding toward three empty seats on one side of the high table.

"Legolas, there you are."

The prince stiffened a bit as his brother came up to him, a rather strained smile on his face. "I'm just here to show you to your seat...Adar suggested that you might want Lord Elrond's sons near you tonight."

"Yes, thank you, Belegdur," Legolas said, relaxing a bit. His brother was a bit more civil than he had been, even if his smile was forced. He followed his brother quietly, relieved that at least one more face was friendly tonight.

"Were you just going to walk past us without saying anything?"

Legolas turned, confronted with two vaguely-familiar looking elves, both with dark hair and eyes. They looked like brothers, but something in their bearing struck a chord in Legolas' mind. "Ceretín! Relfían!" with a laugh Legolas hurried forward to greet both of them. Now he could see the elflings who had been his closest friends in the elves before him.

"I'm so glad you're back," Ceretín said happily. "Life has been too quiet since you left."

The youngercousin nodded. His manner was more sedate and aloof than Legolas remembered, but he didn't wonder why. "Yes, life wasn't quite the same without you," Relfían said dryly.

Legolas looked at his old friend with a hint of confusion. There was some tone of bitterness in Relfían's words...one he could not understand.

"We'll talk later," Ceretín said, pulling on his cousin's arm. "Perhaps after the banquet?"

"Of course," Legolas nodded. "I look forward to it."

He frowned as he followed Belegdur to the high table, looking up just enough to accept the greetings from the elves around him.

"Those were your friends?" Elrohir asked as they were seated.

Legolas looked up, glancing down the table to where the cousins sat. "Yes...Ceretín and Relfían. Their fathers served on the palace guard."

Looking around the room, Legolas began to recognize more of the faces he saw. He remembered the healer, Celebalqua, and a handful of the elves who had been in his brother-in-law's company. His heart caught in his throat when he thought he saw Amarthwen in the crowd, but realized a moment later he had just caught sight of the ice-blue eyes of a dark-haired elf.

He wrinkled his brow in thought as his father called for silence. That elf...he knew that elf. Legolas straightened in his seat imperceptibly. Of course! It was his old tutor, Thilator! He held in a grin as his father called him to stand, seeking out the older elf's eyes. He remembered that his father had said that Thilator had done something years ago, but that had been in the days before he left Mirkwood and he had long forgotten about it. All he could remember now was what Thilator had taught him, and how comfortable he'd always felt around the tutor.

The room suddenly fell silent, and with a slight wave of panic Legolas realized everyone was looking at him. His father was watching him expectantly, and he cleared his throat, mind racing for something to say. "Thank you," he called. "I-it's good to be home again. Thank you." With a nod from his father he dropped back into his seat. Elrohir patted him on the shoulder, and he caught a wink from one of his sisters. He glanced across the table, almost afraid to look at his brother, but relaxed when Belegdur merely looked up at him, then away with no venom in his gaze.

"That's the closest you'll get to a smile from him," Elrohir whispered. "I think his face would crack if he did anything else."

Legolas grinned at Elrohir's comment, and turned his attention back to the banquet.

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_I cut this chapter a bit short to keep the end kinda happy...there's some pretty heavy-duty emotional angst stuff coming up next. I should have the next chapter up on Thursday._


	19. II: Rumors and Enemies

_AN: Hold on to your seats, folks. It's going to be a bit of a wild ride from here on out. Hence the warning sign below._

_Caution: Beware of Cliffhangers_

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Chapter Eighteen: Rumors and Enemies 

"That wasn't too terrible, was it?" Elladan asked teasingly as they left the banquet hall.

Legolas grimaced, refusing to answer his friend's question.

"Elladan, don't do that," Elrohir complained with a sigh. "Are you all right?" he asked the prince. "You seem quiet."

"Just a bit tired, I suppose."

Elrohir grunted in agreement. "We'll escort you to your room and leave you to sleep, then," he said decisively.

Legolas smiled. "I don't need an escort, I remember the way on my own."

But the twins wouldn't listen to his protests, and would not leave him until he was inside his room with the door closed. He shook his head, chuckling inwardly. Even now that he was home, they still felt like they needed to look after him.

He was about to change out of his formal robes when he realized he hadn't spoken to Thilator, like he'd been planning to. He slipped back out of the room, nodding a greeting to two elves who passed him in the hall. There were still enough other elves around that he didn't think Amarthwen would come after him in the hall, but he was wary anyway.

Legolas made it back to the banquet hall without any trouble, but to his disappointment Thilator was no longer there. He couldn't remember where the tutor lived in the palace, but decided he could always find him another time. The hour was growing late, and he would hate to disturb the elf's peace.

"Looking for someone?" Brithdil asked, seeing the young elf re-enter the banquet hall.

The prince shook his head. "He's not here...it's not important."

Brithdil smiled. "I think your friends left only a moment ago. They've been staying in a suite down the north hall—you might be able to catch up with them."

Legolas looked at the captain blankly for a moment, then his eyes lit up in realization. "Thank you, Brithdil," he called, hurrying down the hall. The captain must have meant Relfían and Ceretín, he realized. It was a little odd to him to consider them friends after these years, but he supposed it was only a matter of time before they were close again.

He spotted them down the hall, just entering one of the rooms. Rather than call out to them, he quickened his pace but lost sight of which door they'd entered. Undeterred, he paused next to the doors, listening carefully, to see if he could find out where the cousins were staying.

"...come back at all?" That was Relfían's voice, but Legolas paused with his hand still raised to knock on the door. It sounded like they were arguing.

"Relf, he couldn't stay away forever," Ceretín replied tiredly. "He's a prince, and he belongs here."

"Then why did he leave in the first place?"

"You know as well as I what happened," the older cousin hissed. "Thranduil had to send him away after Belegdur locked him in the dungeons, otherwise there would have been a scandal."

Legolas froze. Did everyone really believe it was Belegdur?

"I don't believe it," Relfían growled angrily. "You still believe that? You still believe something actually happened? What about the nanny...I think her story sounds closer to the truth."

"You know Legolas would never have acted that way," Ceretín said sharply. "Someone obviously frightened her into covering for Belegdur."

Relfían snorted. "Seems a bit far-fetched to me. But if he was so happy in Imladris why didn't he just stay there, then? It's not like we need him here."

"That's enough!" Ceretín nearly shouted. "What do you have against him, anyway?"

"He hasn't grown up," Relfían replied, his voice bitter. "You have, I have—everyone else has but he hasn't! Didn't you see it in his eyes today? He's still just an elfling!"

"Relf," Ceretín protested, but Legolas did not stay to hear the older elf's reply.

Legolas closed his eyes, backing away from the door. He didn't want to hear any more—he wished he had never listened at all. Relfían's words cut him deeply. They had been good friends before, he couldn't understand the venom Relfían held toward him now. And Ceretín...did everyone really think those things about Belegdur?

Head down, he slowly walked away, not quite minding where he was going. He could feel eyes on him, and hear the whispers that followed him as he walked but paid no attention.

"Legolas?"

The young elf nearly flinched. After what he'd just heard, Belegdur's voice was the last he wanted to hear. "Good evening, Belegdur," he said softly.

"What are you doing?" the older prince asked. "Look at me...what is the matter?"

Legolas caught his brother's brown eyes, stern yet strangely compassionate. "I just...I overheard something upsetting," he said, truthfully.

His brother frowned. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"I was looking for someone," Legolas protested. "And I heard what they were saying."

Belegdur sighed. "Eavesdropping almost never reveals anything good," he said calmly.

Legolas looked down again. "At least I know how they feel now," he said miserably.

"And does that make you feel any better?"

"No," Legolas shook his head. He heard his brother sigh again, and looked up to see a distant look on Belegdur's face. He wasn't quite used to this...when he was an elfling Belegdur almost never talked to him, and then it was mostly to scold him. Then again, wasn't this a scolding now?

"What did they say?" Belegdur asked quietly.

Legolas started. He couldn't tell Belegdur what Ceretín had said...he still felt some loyalty to his old friends and didn't want his brother angry at them. "It isn't important," he said. "They were just words."

Belegdur shook his head. "How many secrets do you have?" he asked.

Suddenly under the older elf's scrutiny, Legolas felt and urge to slip out of sight. He forced himself to stand upright, meeting his brother's eyes.

After a moment, Belegdur glanced away, his gaze sharpening a bit. "If you don't want to tell me I won't force it out of you," he said, a bit sharply. "But you shouldn't keep so many secrets, Legolas. You're not the only elf alive who has had something bad happen to him."

His head was nearly swimming at his brother's sudden change in mood. He started to ask what Belegdur meant, but held his tongue, not wanting to somehow anger the older prince.

Belegdur brushed past Legolas, his head held proudly high. "Oh, and Legolas?"

The younger prince turned to face his brother, wondering what else Belegdur could have to say.

"Do you think you could find something more appropriate to wear tomorrow? It might be a good idea if you could _look_ like a wood-elf rather than dressing in the...garments...your Imladris friends gave you."

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Brithdil was whistling a merry tune as he strode down the hall to his own rooms. He'd been speaking with the captain in charge of training the new warriors, and the older elf had agreed to Brithdil's idea—on a few conditions, of course.

He smiled. It was so good to have Legolas back in Mirkwood—he'd grown rather fond of the young elf during his visits to Imladris, and had been awaiting the day of the prince's return.

Many of the other warriors felt the same. The king's family was well-known for skill in battle, and every child of Thranduil who had picked up a weapon had done exceedingly well. Brithdil could still remember the first time he'd seen Princess Eldawen wield a bow in the archery tournament. She hadn't won, but she had come close.

Brithdil's smile broadened when he caught sight of Legolas down the hall. The prince must not have visited long with his friends, the captain surmised. He was about to hail the young elf, when he noticed something amiss in his young friend's bearing.

"Are you all right?" he asked, catching the prince by the arm when Legolas nearly walked past him without noticing him.

Legolas glanced up, and Brithdil could see pain in the younger elf's eyes. "I'm fine," he said quietly.

"Legolas, you can talk to me," Brithdil urged. "Is something wrong?"

The prince shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. Brithdil followed his gaze to an elf who was unmistakably Belegdur, and surmised that the brothers must have had an argument of some kind. Perhaps Belegdur was trying to enforce a curfew on the young elf?

"Come with me," Brithdil said quietly, beckoning Legolas further down the hall to a small alcove. "Did Belegdur say something to you?"

Legolas wouldn't meet his eyes. "No...nothing important," he finally said.

Brithdil didn't reply for a few moments, hoping to give the younger elf time to organize his thoughts. "Is something else bothering you?"

"I...I want to go home."

"You are home," Brithdil replied, unsure of what the prince meant.

"I mean home to Imladris...Brithdil, do I even belong here?"

Brithdil bit back his immediate reply, instead thinking over his answer out of consideration for Legolas. "Yes," he said, firmly. "You are a prince of Mirkwood, Legolas. You belong here."

"But everyone else thinks I should have stayed in Imladris."

"Who?" the captain asked.

Legolas was quiet again for a few moments. "Relfían."

Brithdil sighed. "Oh, Legolas, you have to understand...a lot has happened to your friend since you left."

The prince looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember Haudhel, his father? About ten years after you left, Haudhel was horribly injured protecting your father. He could not be healed, so he chose to sail into the West and his wife went with him, leaving Relfían to be raised by Haudhel's brother, Eithellim—Ceretín's father. Eithellim raised him well, but losing his father so young was a hard blow."

"He said I hadn't grown up," Legolas said softly.

"No, you haven't," Brithdil agreed. "Not completely. Legolas, you came of age ten years ago. You are still very young...so are Ceretín and Relfían, but Relfían has a hard time seeing it."

Legolas nodded in understanding. "What should I do? I still want to be his friend, but after what he said..."

"Do your best to forget it," Brithdil said encouragingly. "Relfían will come around. And if he doesn't, he isn't worth your friendship. Legolas, you've done nothing wrong. He's very angry...give him time to get past his anger and he'll realize how much he still values your friendship."

The captain smiled. Legolas looked a little better...apparently Relfían wasn't the only one who needed to adjust to the prince's return. Legolas himself needed time to realize that this was where he belonged.

"Thank you, Brithdil," the prince said softly, rising to leave.

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Legolas felt less heavy-hearted as he opened the door to his chamber. He knew Brithdil was right—and maybe Relfían didn't really mean everything he'd said. He also knew he might never forget what he'd overheard, but he could try his best to put it out of his mind. And as for Belegdur's criticism...well, he had heard Belegdur criticising one of his sisters earlier for wearing her hair too casual for the banquet, so he had decided not to mind his brother's words, even if they did sting. Belegdur had always been too concerned with appearances—this Legolas did remember. And he was rather biased against Elladan and Elrohir for some reason, so Legolas assumed the slight was directed more toward them than toward him.

As Legolas entered the room, he noticed a rather peculiar smell. It tickled his nose, and he coughed a little. The smell was strangely sweet, though there was a bitter undertone. There was also a lot of smoke in the room, as though something had been smoldering on the fire.

He caught sight of a few odd-looking leaves among the burning logs, and took the poker to stir the fire about, hoping to clear the smoke. It seemed to make things worse, and the smell near the fire was even stronger, more overpowering.

Something about the sweet-smelling smoke set Legolas on edge, as though some sense was warning him of danger. But he couldn't see anything in the smoke—it was stinging his eyes, and there was more of it than there had been before.

Legolas staggered over to the window, stopping for a moment to lean against the windowsill, his head spinning. Whatever was in the smoke was muddling his senses, nearly suffocating him. It was overpowering, sending strange messages to his mind.

His senses were screaming danger to him, and he threw open the window, gasping for fresh air. He hung his head out for a moment, breathing deeply the cool night air. He decided to make a run for the door as soon as his head cleared, and find someone who would know what was wrong with his fire.

Legolas took a deep breath and held it, then spun on his heel to run for the door. He'd only made it a few steps when someone grabbed him from behind, throwing him into a painful headlock. Fingers dug deeply into his neck, and his heart tightened in panic. He tried to fight, tried to remember what he'd been taught, but everything fled his mind, leaving him lost in the blankness of terror.

"You haven't told anyone our little secret, have you?"

He froze. His heart was thumping wildly. The voice was muffled, and when Amarthwen stepped into the light he could see why. She had a rag across the lower part of her face, obviously to keep the smoke out. But if she was in front of him...

"N-no," he stuttered out, when the one holding him gave him a good shake. He wanted to twist around to see the other's face, but the hold was too tight.

"I should hope not," Amarthwen said, almost indignantly. "After all, it is our little secret. Just between the _three_ of us."

_Three?_ "Who else?" Legolas demanded, though his voice was thready and weak.

"Oh, you'll learn in time," Amarthwen crowed. "Tonight is just a warning...next time, I won't be so merciful."

With that, she pulled a long knife out of her belt. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," she said as Legolas panicked. "But you need to remember...no matter how many call you a prince, you're still just a filthy little orc."

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: The next chapter should be up soon...I don't want to leave the cliffie all weekend, so I'll see if I can get the next one posted on Saturday or something. _

_And I promise: the truth will come out in the next two chapters. _


	20. II: The Last Straw

_AN: Hey, guys...wow, I didn't think I'd actually get this chapter up tonight. I've been fighting a pesky bug of some sort (sore throat and stuffy head) and network/server problems all day (we're online...no, now we're off...okay we're back on, but slow as molasses...and it's off again. Unplug the network cable and plug it back in...repair the network connection...still not working...FINE! Let it sit for a while and come back later, only to find it all miraculously fixed! ARGH!). Anyway, here it is...chapter nineteen_

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Chapter Nineteen: The Last Straw

"Do you hear that, 'Ro?"

Elrohir nodded, breaking into a run. The twins had stopped to visit the elves who had traveled with them to Mirkwood, and were going back to their own room now when they heard footsteps running down the hall.

"Legolas?" Elrohir called, grabbing the elf prince as he tried to push past him. To his concern Legolas fought against him, pulling to get away. "Legolas, it's Elrohir."

The prince collapsed against the dark-haired elf, shaking like a leaf. Elrohir gently put his arms around Legolas, casting a concerned glance at Elladan. "Do you smell that?" he asked quietly, noticing a strong, sickly-sweet smell that seemed to be coming from the prince's clothes.

The older twin nodded. "Go back to our room, I'll find out."

Elrohir agreed, gently pulling Legolas down the hall to the guest wing. "What happened?" he asked, keeping a tight hold on the prince. The smell disturbed him—it was of a particular herb, one that had some medicinal uses but the smoke from burning it strengthened emotional reactions, like turning a hint of fear into full-blown terror.

He waved away the elves who came to question him about Legolas' well-being, knowing that a crowd would only heighten the herb's lingering effect.

"She's coming."

The whisper was so faint he almost missed it, but he looked over in surprise. "What?"

Legolas looked up, and for the first time Elrohir saw a pair of bloodied gashes on the prince's cheek.

His concern mounting, Elrohir ushered his friend down the hall into the guestroom he and Elladan had been assigned. "Legolas, who is coming?"

The prince shook his head, sinking down on one of the beds when Elrohir released him. With a sigh, Elrohir pulled some clean clothes out of one of their bags, knowing that anything from Legolas' room had likely been exposed to the smoke for too long and would need a heavy laundering.

"Legolas?" Elrohir knelt in front of the bed, wiping at the blood on his friend's face with a clean cloth. "You need to change...the smoke in your clothes will make you ill if you don't." It was true. More than a minute or two of exposure to the smoke from this herb could cause a bad reaction, and the dark-haired elf wondered how long his friend had been breathing in the smoke.

Legolas nodded mutely, and while he changed into what Elrohir had given him, the older elf filled a bowl with water and grabbed another clean cloth—the blood on Legolas' face had dried.

"What happened?" Elrohir asked, wiping away the dried blood and examining the wounds. The gashes were sharp, but shallow and would heal without stitches.

The blond elf was still trembling, his hands clenched tightly together as though to still their shaking. "S-she..." he swallowed, eyes wide in his pale face.

Elrohir sighed, sitting up on the bed beside Legolas, and put an arm around his friend. "It was your old nurse, wasn't it?"

He felt the younger elf stiffen, and didn't need to look over to see the fear in his eyes. What other _she_ could it be?

"Legolas, just tell me," he said quietly. "I know you're afraid, but Elladan and I can help you."

Silence filled the room, but Elrohir just waited. He could hear footsteps running up the hall as other elves went to investigate what had happened, but hoped Elladan would be able to keep them from finding Legolas.

"Yes," Legolas finally said, so softly that Elrohir nearly thought he'd imagined it.

He could feel Legolas shaking again, but knew that this time it wasn't from fear. "I'm sorry," he said, his words sounding hollow to his own ears. He wrapped both arms around the prince, pulling him tightly against his shoulder.

Elrohir glanced up as the door opened, relieved to see Elladan enter. "Did you find anything?"

The older twin shook his head. "Just the leaves in the fire...no sign of anyone else."

"Th-they left first."

Elladan raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why? What happened?"

Elrohir shook his head, his friend was still trembling and he knew it was too soon for him explain the attack. "We can talk about it in the morning...but you'll be safe with us tonight."

The prince nodded tiredly. Elrohir gently climbed off the bed, tucking Legolas in as though he were an elfling. "If anything happens, Elladan and I will be right here."

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Elladan woke with a groan, bending his neck to one side to ease the stiffness he felt. He looked up, startled to see the early-morning sun barely peeking into the room. He made a mental note to thank his father for getting comfortable armchairs, the ones in the palace were not easy to sleep in.

He glanced over at the beds, seeing his brother and the prince still asleep. It had been a long night for all three of them. Legolas had been sick a couple of times, and it was only Elrohir's assurances that it was just because he'd been exposed to the smoke from the herb for too long that kept them from going to the healers. He had been right, and Legolas had started feeling better a few hours after midnight.

With a wince, Elladan stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back. He thought about going out to see if the palace guards had made any progress tracking whoever had left the herb burning in Legolas' room—for the life of him he couldn't remember the herb's name, all he knew was that it had red flowers and the leaves had spiny edges—but decided against it.

Instead he leaned against the wall, his gaze unfocused. Elrohir had told him Amarthwen was behind this attack...what possible motive could she have? He had heard suspicions about her before, but after a while no one had said anything else, and in all honesty it had slipped his mind. He couldn't help but feel that this was partly his fault—it had been too easy over the years to forget _why_ Legolas had been sent to Rivendell. Maybe if he had focused more on the reasons they could have found something out about this before.

One of the things that concerned him the most, though, were the two gashes in the prince's face. Why two? They were side-by-side, and almost identical. Did they represent something? The number two? A date, or a year?

He suddenly straightened up as another idea snagged his attention. Tally marks? Had the attacker—Amarthwen, he reminded himself—left those to brag that this was the second time she'd been able to attack the prince and no one had stopped her?

"We'll stop her," he growled aloud, accidentally waking his brother.

Elrohir looked up sleepily. "What?" he asked. "What time is it?"

"It's morning, barely," Elladan replied. "I've been thinking—and don't even say it," he warned, knowing that Elrohir would normally make a comment about Elladan's tendency to act before thinking (and Elladan's usual retort was that Elrohir thought without acting, and so they made a good team). "Do you think this attack is connected to the one years ago?"

The younger twin sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. "I was wondering the same thing. He said 'she' was coming, and when I asked if he meant his old nurse he said yes. Remember what we overheard?"

"Yeah, now," Elladan shook his head. "How could I have forgotten something like that?"

Elrohir threw his brother a sympathetic smile. "Because it's been at least sixty years since Legolas was afraid of the cellar?"

Elladan grunted. That was no excuse, in his mind, but the knowledge that his brother had not remembered a half-heard rumor did make him feel a little better. Just a little. So much had happened in the years after Legolas' arrival...it had been easier to simply forget the bad things, particularly after the years they spent hunting out the orcs that had tortured their mother, and concentrate on happier things. "Who was it? One of the princesses and Captain Brithdil, wasn't it?"

"Meluial," Elrohir supplied. "She was the one who swore she would hunt the nurse down as soon as they returned."

"I wonder why she didn't," Elladan mused as his brother stood up, walking over to look out the window.

"Maybe Amarthwen covered her tracks...she did say she left the palace and only returned a few days ago."

The twins turned as Legolas began to stir. Elladan knelt beside the bed, Elrohir on his side, as the prince awoke. "Legolas?"

The younger elf's gaze was slightly confused as it fastened on the twins. Then realization came rushing in, and he pushed himself up, eyes wide and slightly confused. "What happened to me?" he asked, one hand flying to his face to cover the cuts in his cheek.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. "You were drugged," the younger twin finally said, simply. "Do you remember what happened?"

Legolas drew his knees up to his chest, resting his arms across them as he stared off at the opposite wall. "I think so," he said faintly. "I remember the smoke...it smelled odd, and it made me dizzy. The next thing I remember," he shook his head. "It's all fuzzy."

"Legolas, we know," Elladan spoke up gently. "You told us last night, Amarthwen attacked you."

The prince's head dropped, and he rested it against his arms. "I did?"

"Yes," Elrohir nodded. "You didn't say what happened, but you told us it was her."

Legolas sighed. "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt," he finally said. "It seemed it would be better if I just kept it a secret."

"Well, you can't now," Elladan said. "Legolas, we know she used an herb to subdue you or else she wouldn't have been able to do that," he explained, gesturing to the cuts on his friend's face. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"Promise me one thing," the prince said, raising his head to meet the twins' eyes. "Promise me you won't go after her...she's more dangerous than you know."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. This was easier than they'd thought it would be—all too easy. "We promise," Elladan finally said. He wasn't entirely sure they would keep that promise if something else happened, but for now he would be content with taking the truth to Thranduil and letting the royal guards handle it.

Legolas sighed again, dropping his head against his arms. The twins waited—this was part of a secret their friend had been keeping almost all of his life, what could a few minutes hurt? "I just don't want to be afraid anymore," he said quietly. "Last night...when I saw her I was so terrified I couldn't move. The other one was holding me, and I couldn't break away—maybe if I hadn't been so scared I could have."

"Wait...what other one?" Elrohir asked anxiously.

"There were two. Amarthwen," Legolas shuddered at saying her name, "and another elf. I never saw his face, not even enough to know if I would recognize him. But I was so scared, I probably wouldn't have recognized either of you," he added, shame coloring his voice.

"It was the herb, Legolas," Elrohir explained quietly. "The herb they put in your fire...it could turn a little fear into terror, that's why you were so afraid last night."

The prince turned his head, laying it sideways against his arms so he could see the twins. "But I was still afraid," he replied. "I'm so tired of being afraid every time I hear her name, or see her."

"Then tell us," Elladan said encouragingly. "Tell us what happened."

Legolas shuddered one last time, closing his eyes. "I walked into my room. It was dark, and the fire was smoking. The smoke smelled odd...sort of sweet. I opened the window to get some air when he—the other elf—grabbed me from behind. I think he left a bruise on my neck," the prince added wryly, rubbing the back of his neck tenderly. "Then I heard her...and my mind just went blank. All I knew was I was afraid, I couldn't remember anything you'd taught me, anything about unarmed combat. She had a knife," he swallowed, eyes closing a little tighter. "I don't remember what she said after that, but then she cut me, on the cheek...said it was a sign, that the third time would pay for all?"

Elladan nodded. He'd heard the saying among mortals before. "Last night, you said they'd left first. What do you mean?"

"She made me kneel on the floor," Legolas continued, "with her knife to my throat, and told me that they were going to leave, but that I had to count to two hundred slowly before leaving myself. She told me she would know if I left any sooner, and that I would...would pay for it."

Elrohir met his twin's eye. "She wanted to make sure he'd breathed in enough smoke to be sick last night," he murmured.

The older twin grunted in agreement. "And then you ran into Elrohir," he surmised.

Legolas nodded in reply. "I don't remember much else...I don't even know if I made it to two hundred," he added sheepishly.

"Legolas," Elrohir leaned up on his knees, catching the younger elf's eyes with a serious gaze. "Was Amarthwen the one who locked you in the dungeons when you were an elfling?"

The prince quieted, a shiver running down his spine. For a moment, Elladan didn't think he was going to answer. Then Legolas straightened, just slightly, and the older twin could see his friend steeling his resolve.

"Yes," he said quietly.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: The rest of the story comes out in the next chapter...which will probably be up Monday. _

_The saying "third time pays for all" is found in _The Hobbit_...Bilbo says his father used to say it, so I might be fudging a little to say it was around at this time._


	21. II: The Truth

_AN: Must...update...chapter...neither cough, nor congestion, nor fever, nor dizziness...ACK! Okay, I'm really just playing it up. I just have a basic cold, completely controllable with over-the-counter medication. I do sound like a cross between a frog and a duck, though._

_Review Responses are up on my homepage (link on my profile). And starting now I'm changing the way I'm going to do them. I'll still archive them every week, but I'm going to start using the reply feature for everyone logged in. If you're not logged in, I think I'll just put them up on my profile until I post the next chapter._

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Chapter Twenty: The Truth 

Legolas studied the pattern of the blanket on the bed for a moment, considering where to start. He knew he owed the twins a full explanation—the whole story—but it had been a secret for so long.

But now was the time. He was so tired of feeling afraid, it was finally time to tell someone.

"I don't know why she hated me," he said quietly. "I didn't really even realize she did until years later...I just thought I really was a bad elfling. I didn't understand...I didn't think I was that bad, but I tried to be good. I was never good enough for her."

He sighed. "I don't know when it started, but in the months before...before I came to Rivendell she started acting differently, harsher. If my hands were dirty she told me I was turning into a—a dirty l-little orc," he shivered. He'd had nightmares for years about that—where he'd either turn into an orc or his father would just think he was one and throw him out of the palace. "She only hit me once, but she used to dig her fingers in when she put her hand on my shoulder." Unconsciously, one of his hands strayed up to massage the spot in question. "She'd yell at me for things like speaking too quickly, and it seemed like she always drew my bath too hot or too cold."

Legolas shook his head. "I know that last part sounds silly, but it made me afraid to be dirty, and not just because she'd tell me...call me that name."

He glanced up, and could see that Elladan was already fuming. "You promised," he reminded the twins quietly. "Please...I don't want her to hurt you, too."

"She won't," Elrohir said quietly. "Tell us about the dungeons.

The young prince shivered again, leaning back against the wall behind the bed. "I had been out playing with Relfían and Ceretín, they were teaching me to climb a tree. Beledgur startled me, and I fell. He was carrying me inside when Amarthwen stopped him." He paused, rubbing one hand over his eyes. "She said she'd take care of me, and I wanted to beg Belegdur to stay with me but I thought his duty must be more important. So I let her take me. As soon as my brother was out of sight she pulled me into a side room and demanded to know what I was thinking. Sh-she slapped me...it left a bruise...and started dragging me through the halls. I tried to stop her, tried to pull back but she was so strong."

He sighed, resting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. The next part was the hardest. "She took me down into the dungeons, down deeper than I'd ever been before. She found an open cell—there was a spider in it—and pushed me in. Then...then she told me," he swallowed. Amarthwen had called him a dirty little orc so many times that every memory hurt. "She told me that she'd kill me if I told anyone what happened. Then she left me there, and took the torch. I think you know what happened next?"

The twins nodded. Legolas knew it was common knowledge that he'd come out of the dungeons with a broken arm and a rat bite, and he didn't think it necessary to share the somewhat scattered memories he had of the hours in the dungeon.

"Do you feel any better now?" Elrohir asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed next to Legolas and turning his face to study the pair of cuts Amarthwen had left.

To Legolas' surprise, he did. It was as if finally telling the truth released some of the eighty-six years he'd spent afraid of Amarthwen...though even if she decided to go through with her threat he felt death had to be better than living all eternity in fear.

"We should tell your father," Elladan commented, standing up.

"No!" Legolas sat forward, wide-eyed. "Don't tell him...please."

Elladan turned back, puzzled. "Why not?"

"I," Legolas sighed. "I've kept it a secret for so long...I'll tell him, later."

The older twin didn't look convinced, but relented. "We should at least tell him that she was behind last night's attack," he said, his tone allowing no argument.

Legolas finally nodded. "I'll tell him at the banquet tonight," he said slowly.

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Belegdur stood in the hall with his arms crossed, watching the maids go in and out of his younger brother's room, all carrying clothes and bedding and even the curtains.

Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Belegdur stalked over to the room to look inside. The maids were cleaning the smoke damage as best as they could, though a strange smell still lingered. "Does anyone know what happened yet?" he asked, trying to hide the concern in his voice.

"It seems the fire just went out of control, Lord Belegdur," one of the maids called.

Belegdur frowned. "Then explain why Elladan was calling for the palace guard last night," he grumbled. He crossed his arms again, then decisively spun on his heel and strode back to his room. Flinging his wardrobe open, he pulled out a couple of formal robes and a regular tunic and leggings. He considered the clothes—he was only a hair taller than Legolas and certainly not much broader, so anything he had should fit. After a moment he cast them aside, turning instead to the ones the seamstresses had delivered only the day before. He might as well give his brother the clothes rather than just lending them, Belegdur thought. It wasn't as if he was lacking in something to wear, and Legolas would need new clothes anyway. He couldn't expect to go around dressing like one of those twins, could he?

He easily found his way down the hall to the guestroom his father had assigned Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond. Much as he disliked them, he knew Legolas would have gone to them after whatever incident in his room last night.

Belegdur knocked forcefully on the door, impatiently tapping one foot as he heard whispering and muttering inside. The door opened a crack, and one blue-gray eye peeked out.

"What do you want?" the elf asked in surprise. Belegdur didn't know if it was Elladan or Elrohir, and honestly he didn't care.

"Is my brother in here?" he demanded, then paused as he realized the tone he was using. Forcing himself to sound more civil, he repeated his question more quietly. "Is Legolas with you?"

The dark-haired elf regarded the prince with suspicion. "Maybe."

Belegdur sighed. "I don't have time for this, is he all right?"

"Why do you want to know?"

It had to be Elladan, Belegdur surmised. He'd always clashed with Elladan—somehow he could almost get along with Elrohir. Almost. "If you must know," he gritted out through clenched teeth, "I was worried about him. I came out of my room last night to find the hall filling with smoke from his room and he was nowhere to be seen, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. Is Legolas with you?"

The door closed abruptly. Belegdur reflected that had the situation been less severe someone would have found this quite humorous. Of course, he thought angrily, Elladan probably did think it was very funny.

The door opened again, but this time Belegdur faced his brother. "Belegdur?"

"Are you all right, Legolas?" Belegdur asked, his voice softening a hair when he saw the wounds on his brother's face.

"I'm fine," the younger prince nodded. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise, glancing at what Belegdur carried.

"Everything in your room was damaged," Belegdur explained. "I brought you some things to wear."

"Oh...thank you, but I can borrow something from the twins," Legolas said. "It shouldn't take too long to have my things cleaned."

Belegdur huffed, and dumped the clothes into his brother's arms. "These are not a loan, Legolas. These are for you. The seamstress finished them yesterday, but I already have enough clothes. I thought you might be more comfortable..." he shrugged. He wasn't used to this...Legolas was giving him a strange look.

The younger prince glanced down at the clothes in his arms, and Belegdur could see him looking over them. "I thought we were close to the same size," he said. "You'll want to have the robes taken up, though. They'll drag on the floor otherwise, and you don't want them to get tattered. Now, do you have any proper shoes to wear to the banquet tonight?"

To Belegdur's surprise, Legolas threw his arms around him in a surprising show of affection. The older prince hesitated...gently patting the younger's back.

"Thank you," Legolas said with a smile, backing up and gathering the clothes that had fallen on the floor.

Belegdur snorted. "You might need to have them ironed now," he said, sharply, but the slight smile on his face belied his tone. "I am glad you're back...and..." he swallowed. This was something he wasn't used to doing. "I should have been kinder to you yesterday."

"Are you apologizing?"

The older prince nearly groaned at the twin's almost incredulous tone. Leave it to Elladan to ruin something. "Yes, Elrondion, I am," he said sharply. "Perhaps if your tutors taught you something about basic propriety you would understand that."

"What are you saying?" Elladan pushed in front of Legolas, a dark look in his eye.

"Simply that your ways are so barbaric it would be a miracle if my brother had an ounce of civility left. It will truly be due to his blood if he's able to recover some sense of dignity here."

Legolas shoved in between the two, shaking his head. "Now is not the time for this," he said, looking from Elladan to Belegdur. The older prince could see the determination in his brother's eyes, and decided to stop. He could always continue this argument with Elladan another time.

"I will see you later, Legolas," Belegdur said with a regal nod, and turned on his heel and left. He bit his tongue as he walked away, refusing to add a scathing insult. He really did want to be more civil to his brother...but not to Elladan.

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"Stop fidgeting, you look fine," Elrohir said lightly, nudging Legolas with his shoulder.

The prince grimaced. The robes Belegdur had given him fit well, but he wasn't quite used to clothing like this. They were silver and green, whereas almost everything he'd had when he lived in Rivendell had been of a darker hue. On top of that, his father had produced a crown for him, beaming as though it was some great gift.

The thought of Belegdur made him grin. He couldn't forget the look on his brother's face when he had hugged him...it had been a bit impulsive, but seeing Belegdur had brought to mind the rumors he'd heard, and a part of him had wanted to prove he loved his brother and knew he would never be responsible for something like that. If only he could find some way to explain that to Ceretín and the others...

"Well, Princeliness, should we enter?" Elladan asked, breaking Legolas out of his thoughts.

"Elladan!" Elrohir scolded his twin sharply. "Do be serious. This is an important banquet."

"More than the one last night?"

Elrohir shook his head. "Don't listen to him," he said to Legolas.

The younger elf nodded distractedly. His hand started to steal up to the still-healing wounds on his face, but he stopped. The twins had assured him the knife cuts were healed enough that they could pass for scratches, as though he had caught a limb on a tree.

"You don't have anything to be nervous about," Elladan said seriously as they entered the banquet hall. It was mostly empty—the twins and Legolas had come early.

Legolas shook his head. For all he knew Amarthwen's accomplice would be in the room tonight, and he had no way of knowing who it was. He knew Amarthwen wouldn't be here—she wasn't quite audacious enough to do something like that.

He spotted his father across the room, and excused himself from the twins. "Ada?"

The king glanced up from his conversation with one of the nobles present. "Legolas! Good evening."

"Good evening, Ada. Can I speak with you?"

"Of course," Thranduil nodded to the noble, and followed Legolas off to the side of the room. "Is something wrong?"

"I have to tell you," Legolas started, stopping as he tried to remember what he'd planned to say. "Ada, you heard about what happened in my room last night?"

"I heard the fire was out of control," the king replied. "But when I saw you earlier, you said you were all right."

"I am...it wasn't a fire."

Thranduil's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean?"

"Someone attacked me, last night."

"What?" the king grabbed for the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. "Are you all right? Did they do this to you?" Thranduil turned Legolas' face to the side to study the cuts in his cheek.

"I'm fine. It was...Ada...do you remember when I...when you had to send me away?"

Thranduil closed his eyes. "I do," he said sadly. "It was one of the hardest things I had to do."

"I need to talk to you about it," Legolas explained. He glanced around. The hall was filling up. "Could I come see you tomorrow?" he asked. "In your study, and we could talk then?"

The king looked up. "Very well," he said slowly. "Would you rather talk now? We could leave?"

"No, that isn't necessary," Legolas quickly replied. If he waited he'd have more time to figure out how to explain this to his father. "Tomorrow will be fine."

"Tomorrow, then," Thranduil nodded. He wrapped one arm around Legolas in a half hug, leading him back to the gathering elves.

Legolas politely listened as another noble expressed his concern at the "accident" in Legolas' quarters, and his gratitude that the prince was all right. Then he spotted a familiar face in the crowd, and quickly excused himself before the elf he'd seen could disappear again.

"Thilator?" he called, looking around in surprise. The older elf had disappeared by the time Legolas broke away from his conversation with the nobles.

"Is that little Legolas?"

The prince turned around with a grin to greet his old tutor. "Thilator...I meant to speak with you last night, but I couldn't find you."

"I had business elsewhere," the dark-haired elf explained with a quiet smile. "My, how you've grown...you look just like your father."

Legolas grinned, glancing over at Thranduil. "I suppose I do. How have you been, Thilator?"

The former tutor tilted his head to one side. "I have been well. I daresay you have. My, but we have a lot of things to catch up on."

The prince nodded. "Could we speak after dinner?"

"I'm afraid I have business tonight as well," Thilator replied. "But I could meet you in the gardens tomorrow morning, if you have the time."

Legolas smiled. "I'll meet you then. I look forward to our conversation."

The icy-eyed elf smiled in return. "I do as well."

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: I don't know when the next chapter will be up. I mean, it's half-written already, so it might be up Tuesday or Wednesday instead of Thursday._


	22. II: The Worst Enemy

_AN: Just a heads-up, there is some action/violence at the end of this chapter, and a pretty major cliffie._

_If you read _Beginnings_, the infamous story of Elladan and Elrohir's banishment from the palace is in here. It seems a little out of place to me considering the rest of the story...but I had to include it somehow, and this was the only way I could think of._

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Chapter Twenty-One: The Worst Enemy 

"What are we going to do about Amarthwen?" Elladan demanded, turning his back to the balcony railing to face Elrohir. They had left the banquet early, after making Brithdil promise to stay with Legolas (the captain was one of the few elves who knew the truth about the attack).

"We promised we wouldn't confront her," Elrohir reminded his twin. The two were standing on the balcony outside their guestroom, discussing how they could protect Legolas from any further danger.

"But there must be something we can do," Elladan said. He frowned in thought, watching the curtains inside the room wave with a slight breeze. "What about...remember that time we went to that human settlement just south of Bree? There was that uproar about a death threat."

Elrohir nodded. "Someone put a dead skunk in the man's bed. He said it was a threat because he'd been cheating on his partner-in-crime." The younger twin shook his head. "But do you really want to kill an innocent animal just to threaten Amarthwen?"

Elladan sighed in agreement. "That wouldn't be fair to the animal. Well, we wouldn't have to kill one...we could use a live one."

"What sort of threat would that be?" Elrohir asked. "What would you use? Anything small enough to carry could have gotten in on its own."

"Not if it was a frog," the older twin suggested.

Elrohir stared at his brother for a moment. "A frog?" he asked incredulously. "Elladan, aren't we a little old for pranks like that?"

"It worked on Glorfindel."

"That was almost two thousand years ago!"

"Can you think of anything better?"

"Give me a moment," Elrohir shook his head. Elladan's idea might work, but it was far too immature for the two of them...if their father ever found out about it he would be furious, and they wouldn't even have youth as their excuse. "Elladan, we're representatives of our realm here, we have to act responsibly."

"What if we just put it in her room, then? And left a note to say we know what she's up to and watching her...maybe the frog would just scare her."

Elrohir nearly groaned. Elladan's idea was sounding less and less like a way to warn Amarthwen to stay away from Legolas and more like an elfling's prank. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, wondering why he was even considering Elladan's plan. Of course, the only other alternative was to say something to her face, and they had promised Legolas they wouldn't do that. Then again, how dangerous could a nursemaid be?

"We can always come up with something better later," he replied, walking into their room to grab a quill and a piece of parchment. "'We know what you're doing. Stay away from him. We're watching you.'" He dictated as he wrote.

The younger twin sighed heavily. "I suppose we need to go catch the frog now."

"That can wait until morning," Elladan said, blowing on the ink to dry it and rolling the parchment up. "First, we need to find her room."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Elrohir groaned. He felt like an elfling again—and not in a good way.

Elladan shook his head. "Let's think about this. She has to be staying the guest quarters, right?"

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"I can't believe we're doing this," Elrohir muttered, following Elladan as they sneaked through the lower levels of the palace. The front of his tunic moved and made a strange noise, and he quickly covered it with both hands. "I can't believe you made me carry the frog!" he said. Elladan had found a rather nice bullfrog—an especially large specimen. This made Elrohir think his twin was enjoying this plan rather more than he should.

"Quiet!" Elladan hissed. "We're almost there...I think it's down this hall."

"You've said that several times already," Elrohir groaned. "It's trying to get away," he hissed. "We shouldn't go through with this, we should just let this go."

Elladan ignored him, peeking around another deserted corner. "No one's here, let's go."

Elrohir was seething by now. "Elladan, we can't do this. We're too old for something like this. We aren't elflings anymore."

"I know that," Elladan retorted. "But can you think of a better idea?"

"Other than breaking our promise to Legolas and alerting the palace guard?" Elrohir asked. He still thought they should do that, but Legolas had promised them that he was going to do that...later. Elrohir groaned.

"I don't like it either, but he'll know if we do anything else. 'Ro, we're the only ones he knows he can trust here, do you want to break your word?"

Elrohir rolled his eyes. Trust Elladan to come up with an excuse like that.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.

However, their idea was destined for failure, for at that moment one of the doors in the hall opened, and the king and Belegdur stepped out.

"Elladan? Elrohir?" Thranduil asked, frowning when he caught sight of the twins creeping down the hall with guilty expressions. "What are you two doing? This is a private wing."

"We were just looking for Legolas," Elrohir offered feebly. The frog he had hidden in his tunic chose that moment to make a loud noise.

"I think he's in the garden," Thranduil replied. "Is something wrong?"

Elrohir felt the frog start to wiggle again. "Oh, no, nothing," he stammered, backing away. Elladan gave him an odd glance, and he tried frantically to divert Elladan's attention to the problem.

"I suppose we should go find him, then," Elladan said, finally understanding that something was wrong.

"Yes...good day, Lord Thranduil, Lord Belegdur," Elrohir said, turning to escape. He did not see the vase behind him and ran into it. The vase began to wobble, and Elrohir slipped and landed on his back, knocking Elladan over in the process.

The frog, suddenly freed from its constraints, leapt out of Elrohir's tunic. In its panic, it ran straight toward the king and the prince. Belegdur jumped back in surprise, accidentally bumping into his father. The papers the prince had been holding went tumbling to the floor, sliding over to the frog who promptly leapt on top of them.

Thranduil, caught off-balance, tried to steady himself by grabbing a nearby torch bracket, only to have it snap off in his hands as he fell to his knees. Belegdur was dragged down with him, and the torch fell from the wall and caught the papers on fire.

With a cry, Belegdur whipped his outer robe off and started beating at the flames, startling the frog into leaping away to a new perch. Which happened to be the king.

Belegdur put out the flames, surveying the ruined papers in despair. "It took three days to get that agreement finalized," he groaned, glaring over at the twins.

Elrohir opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could say anything the vase stopped wobbling and crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.

The king peeled the frog away with a look of disgust, and dropped it into Elladan's hands. "Take that thing out of here," he said angrily. "And make sure you go with it...and I don't want to see you back within the next century!"

Elrohir struggled to his feet, helping his brother up. "It was an accident," he tried to apologize. "We were just—"

"I don't want to hear it," the king lifted a hand. He sighed. "Just go...you don't have to leave the palace, but just got."

Elladan and Elrohir nodded, and quickly slipped out of the king's sight. "So much for your brilliant plan," Elrohir muttered. "What do we do now?"

The older twin shrugged, grimacing as the frog tried to wriggle out of his grip. "I guess we could go find Legolas. What is he doing in the gardens, anyway? I hope he didn't go alone."

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"Thilator?" Legolas called. "Are you here?" he sighed. Thilator had said they'd meet in the morning, but he hadn't said a time. Legolas hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long—he did still have to see his father.

"Ah, there you are, Legolas!"

The prince nearly jumped. "You have to stop surprising me like that!"

Thilator smiled. "We'll see," he said in a strange tone. "It is nice to have you back, Prince Legolas."

"I'm starting to feel at home here," Legolas said. "It's so different from Rivendell...but I don't feel as out of place as I did when I first arrived."

"Too bad you had to leave at all," Thilator said with a sigh. "I wish you could have stayed. There was so much I could have taught you...but I suppose circumstances were against it."

Legolas nodded, studying the vines that crept up the stone wall of the royal gardens. "I did have tutors in Rivendell," he offered.

"Ah, but would they have taught you that the worst kind of enemy is one who masquerades as a friend?"

The younger elf barely caught a flash of light before instinctively dropping to one side, reaching out to catch Thilator's arm as the tutor's knife flashed by right where he had been standing. He didn't let his surprise at the sudden attack show, instead tangling one leg around the older elf's to trip him.

Thilator sprawled on the ground as the knife tumbled from his hand, and he grabbed Legolas around the ankle when the prince turned to run and tripped him as well. Legolas kicked out at his attacker, hearing a woof of air escape the tutor when one of his blows landed in the elf's midsection.

Abruptly the older elf released his grip, and Legolas scrambled to his feet, intent on alerting one of the guards. But Thilator was ready, and quickly pulled him back into a painful headlock, his fingers digging into the back of Legolas' neck.

Legolas panicked for a moment as Thilator's grip tightened and the tutor began to half-drag him deeper into the garden. It was the same headlock the elf with Amarthwen had used...that meant Thilator and Amarthwen had to be working together! But Elladan and Elrohir had trained him too well for him to just let the tutor kill him. He went completely limp, letting his body become a dead weight to throw the tutor off then launched himself backward against Thilator, knocking them both over.

Rolling off the tutor, Legolas backed away, keeping an eye on the older elf. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

Thilator slowly stood up, panting for breath, the now-recovered knife clutched in his hand. "You wouldn't understand if I told you," he said through gritted teeth. "That was a very foolish thing to do."

In an instant the tutor lunged out again, swiping wildly and forcing Legolas to duck and scurry backward to avoid the blade.

He suddenly felt the wall against his back, and realized the older elf's goal had been to back him into a corner.

Thilator rushed at the prince, gloating, knife held high for a killing blow. Legolas stepped into his attacker's advance, grabbing for the knife with one hand and wincing as it cut along his arm before he got a grip on Thilator's arm, halting the intended blow. He brought up his forearm and caught the older elf under the chin, stunning him and knocking him back a pace. Twisting the older elf's wrist he pried the knife out of his fingers and kicked it away under the bushes.

Undaunted, the former tutor launched a more physical attack, throwing wild punches and kicks at the prince. Legolas blocked most of them, focusing on protecting his face and torso. He could not counter the attack while under Thilator's barrage, but he also knew that the older elf would exhaust himself relatively soon.

Sure enough, a few moments later Thilator began to slow, and Legolas found the right opening to fight back. He shot out one fist, catching the older elf in the stomach and doubling him over. Thilator stumbled forward and grabbed Legolas about the waist, slamming the prince backward into the garden wall.

Legolas grunted as his head met the brick, and he fought back a wince as the tutor managed to land several well-aimed blows while the prince was dazed.

"You," Thilator panted, pinning Legolas to the wall with his forearm across his neck, "are going to pay for that."

The prince tried to twist away, but the tutor only pressed down harder. "You were already going to kill me," Legolas retorted.

"Ah, but that was going to be quick," Thilator said with a smirk. "Not any more." With that he shifted his grip so that both hands were around the prince's neck.

Legolas gasped for breath, clawing at the tutor's hands. The tutor's smile widened and he tightened his grip, but jerked away with a cry of pain when Legolas managed to land a blow on one of his attacker's ears.

Thilator stumbled back a pace, rubbing his ear and glowering at the prince. Legolas clutched at the wall for support, one hand going to the bruised skin of his throat. "Thilator," he rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice, "you don't have to do this."

The tutor sneered. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growled, lunging for Legolas again. The prince stepped away, crying out in pain as Thilator managed to seize his arm and twisted it, nearly popping his shoulder out of joint.

"Now," Thilator sneered, pinning Legolas against the wall and twisting his injured arm up against his back, "where were we?"

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Yuggster whistles innocently before sprinting for her hot-air balloon to escape._

_The next chapter is coming soon! I promise!_


	23. II: A Short Respite

_AN: I forgot to mention...the last chapter was the halfway point._

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Chapter Twenty-Two: A Short Respite

Legolas froze. He knew if he moved Thilator could easily dislocate his shoulder. He also knew that the tutor couldn't do much more from this position, and would have to move if he really wanted to kill Legolas.

"If you try anything I'll break your arm off," the tutor growled. The sheer hatred in the older elf's voice startled Legolas, and he wondered just what he could have done as an elfling to earn such rancor.

Thilator pulled Legolas away from the wall, still holding his arm tightly against his back, bent up at a painful angle. "We're going someplace much more private," he said. "Perhaps you'd like to visit the dungeons again?"

The prince gritted his teeth. This was going to hurt. He dropped to the ground, choking back a cry of pain as the movement twisted his shoulder out of joint. He brought one knee up to his chest and kicked out—not at Thilator's legs, but much higher. He caught the tutor just below the ribcage, knocking him away.

Legolas curled up where he lay, pulling his right arm close and cradling it. He closed his eyes to a slit, feigning more pain than he felt, hoping to trick Thilator into coming closer. He had thought about running, but knew Thilator would just come after him, and Thilator had the advantage right now. The only thing to do was to incapacitate the older elf.

Thilator was wheezing, propping himself up on both arms. "You brat," the older elf growled, sounding less and less reasonable and more crazed. "We should have just killed you when we had the chance."

The tutor stumbled over, too blinded by his own pain and fury to realize it was trick. When he was close enough, Legolas kicked out again, tripping Thilator. The elf was too startled to catch himself and fell backward, cracking his head against the garden path.

Legolas levered himself up to a sitting position, right hand lying useless in his lap. He watched Thilator for a moment, relieved to see the slow rising of his chest. He hadn't wanted to kill the tutor, after all.

He didn't know if Thilator was truly unconscious or merely dazed, but he didn't want to wait to find out. Struggling to his feet and cradling his right arm close, he limped out of the garden toward the palace.

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"I still say we should keep it...we could take it home and name it Belegdur."

"Elladan," Elrohir groaned. "Your little plan already got us both banished from here for a century...what would Ada do if you brought that frog home and announced that you'd named it after a prince of Mirkwood?"

The older twin chuckled, releasing the frog into the grass outside the palace. It immediately made for the pond they'd found it in. "I was only joking," he said.

Elrohir shook his head. "I suppose we should find Legolas now and tell him what happened. Of course, _you _have the honor of telling him why we have to leave."

Elladan sobered. "I'm sorry...as soon as we find him, I'll go back and tell Thranduil I made you do it. Maybe he'll let you stay, then."

"No," the younger twin sighed. "I went along with it...face it, 'Dan, we're both guilty."

He nodded in agreement. "Maybe he'll calm down if we leave and call us back," he said hopefully.

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "I think we're lucky it's only _one_ century. That agreement must not have been very important."

"I guess we should go to the gardens now," Elladan sighed. "Maybe we should have just conf—Legolas!"

The dark-haired elf took off at a sprint toward the gardens, followed closely by his twin. They had both spotted the slight, blond-haired figure of their friend come staggering out onto the lawn, clutching one arm against his side.

"What happened?" Elrohir asked, gently helping Legolas sit on the grass. "Did Amarthwen attack you?"

The prince looked up at his friends, blue eyes sharp with pain. "No," he said softly, shaking his head.

Elladan snorted. "You can say it, Legolas. You already told us about her, remember?"

"No, I mean it wasn't her...it was," Legolas shook his head again, confusing warring with pain in his eyes. "It was my old tutor...Thilator."

Elladan and Elrohir stared at each other in surprise for a moment, before turning back to help Legolas. "What happened?" Elladan asked, pulling Legolas' left arm away from his body. His sleeve was stained with blood from a rather shallow wound. Elladan tore a strip off his tunic to wrap around his friend's arm to slow the bleeding.

"I went to meet him in the gardens...and he just attacked me. He didn't say why," Legolas explained, wincing when Elrohir probed his shoulder.

"It's dislocated," Elrohir murmured to his brother.

Elladan nodded, and carefully knelt next to Legolas, wrapping his arms around him from the side to hold him still. "Ready?"

The prince nodded, biting back a cry of pain as Elrohir swiftly manipulated his shoulder back into place.

The twins waited for a moment while Legolas regained his composure before asking if he had any other injuries.

Legolas shook his head. "Just a little bruised," he explained at their incredulous expressions.

"We should get you to the healers anyway," Elladan commented, standing up and gently helping the prince to his feet.

"Thilator."

"We'll find him."

The prince shook his head again. "He's in the garden."

Elrohir stared for a moment. "He's still there?"

Legolas grinned slightly. "I believe he's unconscious at the moment."

The twins were quiet for a moment, then Elladan laughed. "I see you haven't forgotten everything we taught you," he said.

"I'll look for him," Elrohir volunteered, running back toward the garden.

"Be careful!" Elladan called after him. He slowly helped Legolas up to the palace, silently berating himself for everything...if he and Elrohir hadn't been busy with his stupid frog idea, they could have protected Legolas.

"Elladan?" Legolas broke into his friend's thoughts. "When we get to the healers...could you find my father?"

Elladan winced inwardly. He really didn't think Thranduil would be too happy to see him again. "Of course," he said. The worst Thranduil could do was add another century to his banishment, right?

He left Legolas with the healers, and hurried down to the hall where he and Elrohir had been caught that morning. With any luck, either Thranduil or Belegdur had a study there and he could find the king.

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"What is he doing here again?"

Thranduil glanced up from copying the ruined agreement as Belegdur leapt from his chair and stalked out of the study. He heard raised voices in the hall, and with a frown recognized Elladan's voice.

Sighing in frustration, the king set his quill aside and followed his son, effectively ending their argument. "Elladan," Thranduil nodded. "Did you need something?"

"Perhaps he need to be pointed in the direction of the front gate," Belegdur sneered.

"Enough, Belegdur," Thranduil held a hand up to silence his son. "Go back to work." He sighed again. "Are you here about your banishment?" he asked, guessing at Elladan's reason for returning. He had been reconsidering...perhaps a century was a bit too long.

"No, Lord Thranduil," Elladan bowed, hesitating. "Legolas wishes to speak with you."

Thranduil's brow furrowed in confusion. "Could he not come himself?"

"I'm afraid not...he's in the healer's ward."

"What?" Thranduil exclaimed.

He saw Elladan wince. "I'm sorry...let me explain," the younger elf quickly added. "He's fine...he was attacked in the gardens, and we only took him to the healers as a precaution."

Thranduil closed his eyes. "He was attacked?" he asked, rubbing his brow with one hand. "By whom?"

Elladan hesitated. "I think he'd rather tell you himself," the dark-haired elf responded. "He asked me to find you."

The king nodded in agreement, and turned to go to the healers. He paused, looking back at Elladan. "I was a bit hasty with you and your brother earlier," he said quietly. "I would like to speak with the two of you later."

He smiled a bit at the shock on the younger elf's face, but continued to the healers without another word.

He found Legolas in the healers, one arm bound in a sling and the other wrapped in bandages. He was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, talking with one of the healers.

"Legolas?"

The prince looked up with a grin. "Ada...I see Elladan found you."

Thranduil smiled, sitting in the chair beside the bed as the healer left to attend to other tasks. "Yes he did...for the second time." Seeing the look of confusion on his son's face, Thranduil quickly changed the subject. "He said you were attacked in the garden?"

Legolas nodded. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, though...not initially."

The king frowned. "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, Legolas looked down at his hands. "Ada...I never told you what happened."

Thranduil waited patiently for his son to go on, sensing that this was something very important.

"I never told you what happened the day I fell out of the tree," Legolas finally said, refusing to meet his father's eyes.

The king gently took his son's hand in his. "Then tell me," he said softly.

And Legolas did.

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"He lied about you, Legolas."

The prince looked up to meet his father's eyes. "What?"

"When you were young...I removed Thilator as your tutor because he lied about you."

Legolas slowly lowered his gaze. He had told his father everything, including the attacks in his room and the gardens. He had wondered why Thilator would attack him, why the tutor would be helping Amarthwen, and then his father had spoken up.

"But why?" Legolas asked, more puzzled than hurt.

"He said it was because he was unhappy," Thranduil explained with a sigh. "He had wanted to be released from service to go back to the village."

Legolas shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

Thranduil smiled gently. "I was concerned about other things at that time," he said, lifting Legolas to meet his eyes again.

The prince swallowed at the tears he saw in his father's eyes. "I'm sorry I never told you before," he said quietly.

"Legolas," Thranduil sighed, gently enfolding his son in his arms, careful of the young elf's shoulder. "I understand why you didn't. You do not have to apologize for fearing her..._I_ should apologize for not noticing before."

"But you couldn't," Legolas protested. "No one else knew what was happening, why should you?"

"I'm your father," the king replied. "I should have known...I should have protected you."

Legolas smiled a bit, pulling away from his father. "You did. You sent me to Rivendell."

Thranduil shook his head. "I shouldn't have had to."

"Ada, if you hadn't I might not have survived today," Legolas said softly. "I only did because of what Elladan and Elrohir taught me...I don't know that I would have been able to otherwise."

To Legolas' surprise, his father chuckled. "Elladan and Elrohir...I think they're going to be spending the rest of the day helping Belegdur copy the trade agreement they ruined this morning."

"What?" Legolas frowned slightly, confused. "What do you mean?"

"That is a long story," Thranduil said with a laugh. "I very nearly had them banished, but that was a bit hasty."

Legolas stared at his father, unsure whether to believe him or not. "Banished?" he asked slowly, a slight lump in his throat. If his father sent the twins away so soon...

"I won't, Legolas," the king said quickly. "I was hasty in my judgement...they won't be banished."

The prince relaxed just slightly. "Thank you, Ada."

Thranduil smiled. "There's no need to thank me," he said quietly, patting Legolas' hand.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_The next chapter won't be up Thursday or Friday. Why? Well...Thursday (March 16) is my birthday (the big 2-3), and Friday is the day we're all celebrating (it's the only day everyone could get off work). I am putting up a few short stories tomorrow, though. I don't know why, it's my insane way of celebrating, I guess._


	24. II: Revenge

_AN: I'm sorry this is late, but seriously, real life reared its ugly head (under the context of apartment floorplans, leasing contracts, and packing up my earthly possessions for the big move). Also, this chapter decided to be more difficult to write than any two other chapters (including the tournament chapters in Beginnings combined). Seriously...it's been kicking me in the teeth since Saturday. And I'm still not happy with it._

_Warning: this chapter contains violence and character death (a very minor character...but I wanted to warn you)._

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Revenge 

Legolas shook his head as Brithdil gave a rather lively account of the twins' accidental destruction of the trade agreement. He still couldn't believe Elladan and Elrohir had been bringing a frog into the palace—why would they do such a thing?

"And then my father banished them, didn't he?" the prince asked.

Brithdil nodded. "But you should have seen your brother...his robe had gotten singed beating out the flames, and the smoke was still noticeable at dinner."

"What were they doing?"

"I do not know...Elladan and Elrohir are the only ones, and they have refused to tell anyone."

Legolas sighed, leaning back against the wall behind his bed. He had been moved to a separate room while his was still being cleaned of smoke. The twins had said he could stay with them until his room was ready, but he knew it was time to start separating a bit from his friends. They wouldn't be able to stay in Mirkwood forever, after all. Not that they wouldn't still be close, but he had been living with their family for almost ninety years. It was time to readjust to living with his own family.

"Do you think they're still helping Belegdur?" Legolas asked.

"I would imagine so. Quite a fitting punishment your father selected."

Legolas found himself laughing again, and soon Brithdil and Meledur, the other elf assigned to protect the prince, joined in.

"I wish I could have seen your brother's face when he saw Elladan and Elrohir," Meledur commented from his seat near the balcony door. Dark curtains covered the door, blocking the moon and stars.

Since his conversation with his father, Legolas had been under the protection of at least two warriors. Even now that night was falling and there had been no sign of Amarthwen or Thilator since the attack in the garden (Thilator had disappeared before Elrohir could get to him). This room was in a more secluded wing as well, as it would be more difficult for Amarthwen or Thilator to slip up to it if there were fewer elves milling about.

Silence fell over the room. Legolas fiddled with his sling, not entirely sure two guards were necessary. But it was his father's idea, and he was happy with that. If only they could catch one of them...he was afraid Elladan or Elrohir or someone in his family would be in danger because of what he told his father.

He was about to tell Brithdil and Meledur that they could leave, when a sudden eruption of noise outside caught all three elves' attention. Meledur leapt up, pushing the curtains aside to peer out. "The forest burns," he said in shock. "The trees...the trees are burning."

"We should go," Legolas said, standing up.

"No," Brithdil argued, standing in front of the door with his arms folded. "We need to stay here."

"But we could help," the prince protested.

"You father gave us explicit orders," Brithdil replied. "We cannot leave."

Legolas sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

"Come away from there, Meledur," Brithdil called.

The other elf seemed transfixed by the sight of the blaze in the forest, but at the captain's voice he let the curtain fall. "I wonder how it happened," he said quietly, turning around to face the other two.

"It could be anything...a campfire that got out of hand, careless humans wandering in the forest," Brithdil let his voice trail off, leaning back against the door.

Legolas shook his head. How could anyone be so careless as to let a flame get out of hand, particularly in the forest? "Do you think they'll be able to put out the fire?" he asked quietly, concerned for the trees. He could faintly hear their voices...it was chilling.

Meledur nodded. "I've seen them fight more dangerous fires," he said. "This is—ah!" the elf let out a cry of pain, his head jerking back. Legolas gasped. From where he was sitting he could just see a long-fingered hand tangled in Meledur's hair.

The warrior tried to fight his unseen attacker, but it was barely a moment before he stiffened with another sharp cry, hands clawing at the curtains behind him. The elf gave an odd gurgled cry, his eyes glazing over, and suddenly slumped motionless to the floor.

"Get behind me!" Brithdil snapped, yanking Legolas toward the door. The captain had his bow out, aiming at the curtains.

"What about Meledur?" Legolas asked quietly.

"He's beyond our aide," Brithdil replied. Meledur was lying still...too still. Whether unconscious or dead Legolas did not know...but the bloody wounds on his back did not bode well.

"The door," Brithdil whispered. "Get out of here."

Legolas tried. "It's locked," he replied in shock. "Did you lock it?"

Brithdil shook his head. He stared at the curtains, waiting for the slightest hint of movement. He did not want to fire and miss...he did not know if he could get another arrow out before the attacker moved into the room.

"Do you have a key?" he asked Legolas.

"On the stand beside the bed."

"I'll get it...stay here, and warn me if the curtains move."

Legolas nodded. He shivered, wrapping his good arm around himself. He knew how the attacker had come in...there were trailing vines up this side of the palace. The fire must have been a diversion, he realized...and Meledur had played into Amarthwen's hands by opening the curtains.

He heard the lock in the door click open, but before he could move a hand reached through a crack in the door and grabbed him by his bad arm, jerking him out of the room.

"Put that away, Captain," a cold, haughty voice uttered. Legolas felt a cold blade press against his neck.

Legolas saw Brithdil's eyes widen, arrow notched and pointed at Legolas' captor.

"Unless you want to watch your prince die, I suggest you put that away."

It was Amarthwen.

"Let him go," Brithdil said evenly. "Or I will fire."

"You'll hit the prince," Amarthwen replied. "Just stand down, Captain."

"Why? What could you possibly want with him?"

Legolas stiffened as the knife pressed in closer to his neck. He could feel the blade biting into his skin, and nearly closed his eyes.

"Revenge," Amarthwen hissed. "He ruined my life...my family...everything!"

"How?" Brithdil demanded.

"His father forced me to stay in the palace to care for him," she snapped. "My brother was the only family I had left, and he would not even let me see him."

"That isn't true!"

Legolas saw the curtains move. "Brithdil!"

Amarthwen's arm wrapped around his chest. "Quiet," she sneered. "You little orc-brat, I should have killed you years ago...a simple accident, you could have fallen out the window, even though I told you not to hang out of it. After all, that tutor had everyone convinced you were such a disobedient child."

The captain heard a noise at the balcony and whirled around, instinctively firing. The arrow struck flesh, and Legolas heard a howl of pain.

While Brithdil was distracted, Amarthwen pulled Legolas into the hall, releasing her arm from around his chest to lock the door again.

"Let me go!" Legolas grabbed her wrist with his good hand, trying to force it away.

The she-elf swore under her breath. "Stop fighting me," she hissed. "I can make this more painful than it has to be."

Where was everyone? The hall was completely empty...not even a servant around. Legolas struggled, biting back a cry of pain when Amarthwen viciously dug her fingers into his still-healing shoulder.

"No one will hear you," she gloated. "I made sure of that...the trees burn and the kegs in the wine cellar have burst. There is no one to help you."

Legolas could hear Brithdil hammering on the door, and knew it would only be moments before the captain broke the door down. "My father will find you," he said, fighting Amarthwen with every step, though the pain in his shoulder and the blade at his throat hampered his effort. "You won't escape this time."

"I don't have to," she replied, pushing him into a room not far away. "Just as long as you're dead."

He stumbled a bit when she shoved him deeper into the room, pausing to twist a key in the lock. "Not a word," she said, finger to her lips and dagger in hand. "If you shout I will kill you, and then that captain friend of yours."

Legolas stumbled back, looking for any furniture in the room to place between him and Amarthwen. There was nothing...not even a bed frame...except an empty wardrobe in the corner. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, backing toward the window. Only...there was no window on this side of the palace.

"Quiet."

The young elf heard a crash in the hall. He froze...that was Brithdil breaking down the door. The captain called his name, his voice high with trepidation. Amarthwen again held a finger to her lips, shifting the blade in her hand.

Legolas waited another moment until Brithdil's voice called further down the hall, then launched himself at Amarthwen. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he grabbed her wrist with both hands, trying to wrestle the knife away from her.

With more curses, Amarthwen tried to pull her hand away, using her free hand to push his chin up and back.

Legolas fought back another strangled cry as Amarthwen moved her hand to dig into his injured shoulder, inadvertently releasing her wrist with one hand. She pulled her hand away, striking him across the face with the handle of the knife. He stumbled back, face stinging from the blow.

"I'm getting tired of this," she growled.

The prince grunted, wiping blood off his cheek with one hand. His heartbeat quickened—he could hear other steps running down the hall. Brithdil must have gotten help!

Amarthwen heard the approaching elves, too. "They can't save you," she crowed, diving at him with the knife held high.

He tried to counter, but realized too late it was a feint. The palm of her hand slammed into his chest, sending him to the floor panting for breath.

"I did warn you," she sneered, twirling the knife in her hand. "I said I would kill you myself." In a swift strike, she brought the pommel of the knife across his temple.

Pain exploded through his head, and he knew no more.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: Yeah, yeah...evil cliffie. The next chapter shouldn't be so hard to write, though._

_Review responses are posted...I've changed my site around again...there's some news about its upcoming overhaul._

_All right...I'm moving on the 30th, so I'm going to try to get this part of the story finished by then (shouldn't be too hard). I ought to be able to get back to the story by the second week of April, but I can't make any promises here._


	25. II: The Price of Treason

_AN: More violence and another character death in this chapter...it's a bit grizzly, too._

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Chapter Twenty-Four: The Price of Treason

Legolas slowly regained consciousness, blinking in the darkness. He couldn't see, and tried to rub his eyes only to discover that he couldn't move either.

He panicked, trying to roll over to free his arms. But it was no use...they were bound behind him at the wrist, the position pulling on his injured shoulder. His feet were also tied together.He thrashed out, mind blank with the thought that he was suffocating, and struck the wall. He was locked in some tight space...it was dark...too dark...

"No," he whispered, forcing himself to be still. He closed his eyes, though that did not shut out the darkness, and focused on taking a few deep breaths. Then, eyes still closed, Legolas slowly stretched out his feet until they touched a wall and pushed himself up to a sitting position.

He could not see where he was, but he could guess. It was fairly small, nearly as wide as he was tall and about four feet deep. It was also dark, and smelled faintly of aged wood.

Legolas wriggled back to sit against the side of his prison. It must be the wardrobe in the empty room where Amarthwen had taken him. He swallowed. No one knew where he was...chances were it could be days before anyone would find him. A tiny part of his mind wondered if they would search the dungeons first, only to learn he had been stuffed away merely doors from his room.

One of the doors to the wardrobe suddenly swung open, the light of a candle painfully bright. "So you are awake," a voice called.

Legolas blinked in the light, his eyes slowly adjusting. "Amarthwen," he said, coughing a bit to clear his throat.

"Search parties comb the palace...yet there's no sign of the dear little prince," she said, kneeling next to the wardrobe. She was playing with her dagger again, letting it gleam in the faint light of the candle.

"Let me go."

Amarthwen's eyes darkened. "Still the same selfish brat you always were," she sneered. "No thought for what anyone else wants."

If he had been in a different position, Legolas might have laughed. Amarthwen wanted to kill him, and she was trying to scold him for ignoring her wants. "Let me go," he tried again. "You do not want to do this."

The she-elf grabbed his chin, jerking his face toward hers. "No, I _want_ to see you die slowly," she replied in a hiss. "Now, not a sound." She lifted the knife and slowly drew it across the freshly-healed skin of his cheek, copying the wounds she had left two nights before. "Third time," she crowed, adding a third cut. Amarthwen shoved Legolas back against the wall of the wardrobe.

"You don't have to do this," Legolas said, his voice weak from pain. She had cut deeper this time.

Amarthwen's eyes narrowed, and she backhanded him. Shaking the blood off her hand she stood, glaring down. "I will return," she sneered. "And when I do, it will be for the last time."

Without another word, she slammed the doors to the wardrobe closed again, and Legolas faintly heard a key turn in the lock. A few moments later the door to the room closed as Amarthwen disappeared into the hall. He let out a shaky sigh, resting the uninjured side of his face against the wood. He did not know how long Amarthwen would be gone, but he had to escape.

The wooden doors groaned when he leaned against them, trying to shift his body around to a more comfortable position. He froze...the wardrobe was old...older than any of the other furniture he'd seen in the palace.

An idea began to form in his mind. It would be risky, but it was his only chance.

Legolas wiggled around and pressed his back against the back of the wardrobe, gritting his teeth at the pain that twisted through his shoulder. He slowly brought his feet up, placing them against the door and shifting around to get the best angle possible.

Gritting his teeth again, he kicked against the door with his feet. The wood groaned but did not crack.

With a sigh of frustration, Legolas shifted over to the side. Curling up as much as he could, he kicked out again, this time in the joint between one of the doors and the side of the wardrobe. The wood was thick and sturdy, but he hoped the hinges were less so. His efforts were rewarded with a crack a moment later as one corner of the door began to break, the ancient hinge giving way under his attack.

The crack let in the light of the candle Amarthwen had left behind, and Legolas sought out the weak point in the faint light. He could see cracks spider-webbing out from where the hinge had been attached, and aimed for the second hinge.

After a few more kicks the hinges caved away, the door sagging open slightly. Triumphantly, Legolas pushed at the door with his feet, forcing it open as far as he could. The top hinge and the lock held, but he now had an opening he could squeeze through

Twisting around, Legolas put his back against the broken door and pushed off the back wall of the wardrobe with his feet. He levered himself out of the wardrobe, wincing as the jagged wood tore through his clothes and skin.

Pulling his legs free, Legolas lay curled up on the floor for a moment, panting for breath. The pain in his shoulder was agonizing, but well worth it for his freedom.

Still curled up, Legolas steeled himself and slowly began inching his bound hands down toward his legs. His shoulder throbbed, but he made himself keep working. He forced his hands under his legs, stopping as a wave of pain-induced dizziness swept through his head. He had been able to do this as an elfling, but it was a lot harder now.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of pain and stretching and wiggling, he eased his arms in front of him, surveying the knots that bound his wrists with a hint of satisfaction. He could barely even move his right arm and now he saw that he could notfree his hands, the knots were too complicated. But...

Legolas stretched his legs out, studying the ropes that bound his ankles together. He smiled. For the first time that night, his luck seemed to be with him.

The rope was only looped around his ankles, tied in a tight, yet simple knot in the center. Enough to keep him from wiggling loose on his own, but not enough to completely trap him. With a bit more bending and stretching, he was able to fumble with the ropes around his ankles. He nearly worried his lip bloody as he did so, breathing a sigh of relief when the rope gave way.

Shaking the rope free, Legolas slowly pushed himself up to his knees, pausing to rest his hands against the floor. The pain in his shoulder was nearly overwhelming by now, and it took great effort to move it, but that was quickly becoming the least of his worries. With a surge of strength, he pushed himself up to his feet, staggering against the wall as he nearly lost his balance. He shook out one leg, wincing as pins and needles danced up and down it.

Hands still bound before him, he slowly walked to the door, awkwardly grasping the handle and trying to turn it. It wouldn't move.

Legolas nearly groaned in defeat, resting his head against the door. It was locked.

"I have come too far to give up now," he muttered, leaning back against the wall beside the door. Amarthwen would return eventually, and when she did she'd be expecting Legolas to still be in the wardrobe. She wouldn't expect him to be waiting just inside the door.

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"He's not in the dungeons!" Meluial exclaimed, shifting herquiver higher onto her shoulder.

Brithdil shook his head. "I don't understand it...where could she have taken him?"

"We should track Thilator," Ceretín offered. He was not yet a warrior, but was anxious to hunt for his friend. "He killed Meledur...he should know where Amarthwen is."

"That would take too long," Elladan argued.

"But he killed Meledur!" Ceretín countered. "Should not he be brought to justice?"

"He will be," Brithdil interjected, stepping between the two elves. "We should begin searching the royal quarters."

"That is the last place she would have taken him," Belegdur retorted. He had a floorplan of the palace out and was attempting to organize the search effort.

"As were the dungeons last time," Meluial offered quietly. "He could be up there, in the last place we'd look."

Belegdur shook his head. "Did anyone see anything?" he demanded. Brithdil had run into the prince and the twins with news that Amarthwen had taken Legolas nearly an hour ago. Most of the upper wings of the palace were deserted, the elves had been concentrating on either fighting the fire in the forest or cleaning out the wine cellars before the spilled wine seeped into the floor and attracted vermin, including spiders.

"I saw no one else in the hall," Brithdil replied.

"We need to begin with the wing he was taken from," Meluial said, supporting Brithdil's decision. "If only to count it out."

Belegdur sighed. His father had placed him in charge of the search effort. "Very well...Brithdil, take my sister and the twins and comb these two halls, they join the hall with the family rooms at opposite ends. Check every room. Ceretín, you and your father begin with the next hall down." Other elves had already begun searching the lower halls, though some had already returned with negative reports.

"We'll find him," Brithdil said, double-checking his weapons.

"I hope you do," Belegdur said softly as the elves left. He would have given anything to search with them, but he could not, not when his father ordered him to stay there. "You found him last time."

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Time seemed to pass out of meaning as Legolas waiting. His shoulder ached for attention, splinters left in his body from the brokendoor stung when he inadvertently leaned against one. The cuts on his face had stopped bleeding, leaving a long patch of dried blood in their wake. He knew he must look a fright...face covered in dried blood, hands bound, tears and splinters in his clothing.

He shook his head to focus. He had no way of knowing the time, but the candle had melted down to nearly a stub. Another third of an hour and it would burn out completely. By his estimation he had probably been waiting for close to half of an hour, much longer than he'd anticipated.

He straightened up, faintly catching stealthy footsteps coming up the hall. He had no way of knowing if this was Amarthwen or another elf, but dared not risk calling out. If it turned out to be a servant he would be free, but if it was Amarthwen he would lose the only advantage he had.

A key turned in the lock, and he heard a quiet click.

Legolas steeled himself. He had only a moment to act.

The door slowly swung open, and Legolas saw the long-fingered, white hand of the she-elf, still clutching a dagger. Dried blood clung to the blade, and he shivered with the realization that it was his.

Amarthwen was distracted, looking down the hall as though she heard something. Legolas tensed as the elf-maid entered the room, stopping still when she saw the damage done to the wardrobe door.

With every ounce of strength that he could rally, he swung his hands at the back of her head. He misjudged, striking her in the shoulders but sending her stumbling nonetheless. Legolas ran, nearly tripping over the she-elf's legs in his hurry to leave the room.

She roared wordlessly, and he could hear her scrambling to her feet to come after him. He had no doubt that she could move faster than he could at the moment, and she was armed. All he could think of was getting as far as possible before she caught up to him, maybe far enough to catch someone's attention.

"You little orc," Amarthwen shouted, leaping forward and tackling him around the waist. He felt a blow to the side of his head—not enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to stun him momentarily.

Shaking off the daze the blow induced he rolled, throwing her off for a moment and gaining his feet again. She scrambled up as well, facing him with a deadly glare in her eyes and the knife still in her hand.

Amarthwen lunged at him, and Legolas caught the arm that held the knife. She fought him, clawing wildly at his face with her free hand, but he held on.

"Legolas!"

The prince's heart quickened. He knew that voice...it was Elladan. "Elladan!" he called back.

The she-elf growled something, and in a tremendous show of force pulled her hand free, slicing partway through the ropes that bound Legolas' wrist and the palm of his right hand in the process. She tangled her fingers in his hair, yanking his head back and pulling him close, the blade of the knife pressed to his throat.

"Let him go," Elladan said in a low, threatening voice. Legolas' heart was pounding...Elladan was alone.

"Never," Amarthwen hissed. "I'll kill him first." She dragged Legolas down the hall, eyes fastened on Elladan.

Legolas was silent, knowing anything could prompt the she-elf to carry through with her threat.

"Release him," another voice spoke up. Amarthwen whirled around, nearly losing her grip on Legolas. Brithdil stood at the other end of the hall, Meluial behind him.

"No," she shouted, her voice pitched with frenzy. "This ends now!" she shrieked at Brithdil, wrapping her free arm around Legolas' chest and raising the knife.

The quiet _shoof!_ of an arrow broke through the silence, and was followed by a harsh scream. Legolas fell to the floor, ears ringing. He stared up, eyes widening in shock. Amarthwen was clutching her arm, the shaft of an arrow straight through it.

And Elrohir had just appeared behind Elladan, drawing an arrow from his quiver to replace the one he'd just fired.

The knife lay to the side where Amarthwen had dropped it. With an inarticulate cry, she dove for it as Legolas tried to scramble away.

A second arrow flew through the air, embedding itself in Amarthwen's stomach.

"I told you this would happen when I learned the truth," a calm voice called from Brithdil's side. Princess Meluial, eyes hard and calculating, notched another arrow to her bow. "Let this be the end of you."

"Meluial," Brithdil whispered, pushing the princess's bow down. "Let us take you to the healers. It is not too late for you," he said quietly, stepping toward Amarthwen and extending one hand.

The former nurse panted. "I do not want your pity," she gasped, coughing, her hand wrapped around the arrow in her belly. Her other hand closed about the knife.

Eyes wide in shock, Legolas tried to rise to his feet but slipped. Elrohir and Meluial brought their bows back to bear on Amarthwen, but the she-elf ignored them.

"May my death haunt your souls!" Amarthwen screamed, raising the blade a final time to plunge into Legolas' chest.

Another arrow flew down the hall, burying its head deep into Amarthwen's black heart, met by a second half a moment later. Her eyes went blank, an expression of confusion on her once-fair features. The knife fell from her fingers, clattering harmlessly to the ground. She shuddered once, and fell lifeless to the floor, one arm draped across Legolas.

Legolas stared at the fair head, now tinted red with blood, in shock. He had barely a moment to comprehend what had happened before the she-elf's body was pushed away, and someone was pulling him up, arms wrapped around him and familiar voices comforted him.

"It's all right," Elrohir murmured as he and Elladan pulled Legolas away from his old nurse's body. "She's dead...it's over."

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: Ding-dong! The witch is dead! Ah-ha-ha! (sorry...I've been waiting twenty-four chapters for this)_

_But the story isn't over. There's one more chapter to this part, and then it's on to Part Three!_


	26. II: A Threat Remains

_AN: I'm ba-ack (finally)! Well, obviously I didn't get this posted before I moved. But I'm back now._

_About Review Responses...well, it was either work on those or this chapter, and I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible. I'll get all the responses out as soon as I can. I just haven't had any time to work on them yet. I really appreciate everyone's reviews, and I am going to respond to them all as soon as I can._

_This is the last chapter of part two. Part Three is very soon to come (like, probably in the next day or two)._

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Chapter Twenty-Five: A Threat Remains

"_Do you think he'll be all right?"_

"_Hard to say...I hope so."_

Legolas wrinkled his brow as the voices trickled in through his consciousness. He heard a heavy sigh, felt someone run a hand over his head.

"_Any sign of Thilator?"_

"_No...no sign."_

Thilator. Legolas started at hearing the name, the events of the last few days flashing into his mind. His eyes flew open, and he found himself staring into several startled pairs of eyes.

He immediately sought out a familiar pair, and finally recognized Elrohir. The dark-haired elf was kneeling beside his bed, leaning over as though to block the rest of the room out.

Slowly, the other faces he saw came into focus, and he began to recognize members of his family...two of his sisters and one brother.

"It's all right," Elrohir said quietly, turning Legolas' focus back to him. "You're in the healers' wing.

"Am-Amarthwen?" Legolas whispered.

"She's dead."

Legolas closed his eyes, resting his head back in the pillow. So it was true...he had hoped it wasn't. Not that he had felt any compassion for the she-elf, but ending an immortal life was always a serious matter. "Who killed her?" he asked quietly.

"We're not sure," another voice, Elladan, replied. "Elrohir and Meluial shot her at the same time...it's almost impossible to know whose arrow landed first."

"We would not have done it if there had been another way," Elrohir said gently. "You have to believe that."

Legolas nodded. He understood that...but that did not make it any easier to accept. As much as he had feared her, he had not wanted to see her dead. "You said Thilator escaped?"

No one spoke for a moment. "We will find him," was all Elladan said in reply.

Legolas sighed, painfully shifting on the bed. He could feel the other elves' eyes on him, and fidgeted under their scrutiny. The bed suddenly shifted and he opened his eyes, a little surprised to see his father. "Ada?"

Thranduil nodded to the other elves in the room, gently taking his son's hand as the others left. "I am so sorry I could not protect you," he said quietly, his voice nearly breaking. "Legolas..."

"No," Legolas shook his head, tightening his hold on his father's hand. "You could not have done more."

"I could have locked you in one of the unused wings with a circle of guards," Thranduil retorted. "I could have had Elladan and Elrohir take you back to Rivendell, or kept you with me at all times."

"Ada," the prince protested. "You did...you could not know Amarthwen would go to such lengths," he tried to reassure his father. Thranduil's dismay was distressing...how could the king blame himself?

"I have spoken with the twins," Thranduil continued after a moment, his voice quavering. "If you so desire...they will take you back to Rivendell."

Legolas sank back in shock. "Ada?" he asked, his own voice weak. "Do...do you want me to leave?" He was confused...his mind slightly foggy as though he had been drugged—which, since he was in the healer's wing, was likely.

"No," Thranduil shook his head. "But I wish you to feel safe, and if you do not feel so here..."

The young elf scooted forward as much as he dared, wincing when pain shot through his torso. He awkwardly wrapped his good arm around Thranduil, his right arm again hanging in a sling. "But I want to stay," he said in a small voice, part of him oddly afraid that his father was going to make him leave again.

And for the first time since his arrival, he did. Even though he still felt out of place among the wood-elves, he knew that he belonged with his family.

Thranduil's arms tightened briefly around his son. "All right," the king finally said, pulling away from Legolas' embrace. "But I don't want you to take any chances...if there is the slightest sign that he has returned I will send you back to Rivendell until we can find him."

Legolas nodded to show that he understood. He offered his father as bright a smile as he could muster, ignoring the pain that flared in his wounded cheek. "It will be all right, Ada," he said as confidently as he could.

The king simply shook his head. "You need to rest...I will speak with you again in the morning."

He waited until his father left, half-listening as the king said that everyone else could visit Legolas after he had rested.

The healers were still bustling about, treating another elf that had come in with an injury.

Legolas sighed, rolling onto his side and curling up a little. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping any healer that came near would simply think he was sleeping.

A cold knot of fear was building in his stomach. Thilator was still alive, and Legolas knew it would only be a matter of time before the tutor returned.

But next time, he vowed, he would not be taken unawares.

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"How is Meluial?" Elladan asked in concern as he left the healers with Brithdil. Elrohir was trailing behind, still looking back as though wishing he could have spoken with Legolas again.

"She's a little shaken up," the Mirkwood captain replied. "She's...well, she's never had to even draw against another elf before. How is your brother?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Elladan glanced back at Elrohir. "He'll be all right, once we get home and he can talk to our father. He knows it had to be done, but that does not make it any easier on him."

Brithdil nodded quietly. "Will you be returning immediately, then?"

"I don't know," Elladan sighed. "We probably should." He would have delayed the trip had Legolas wanted to come with them, but Thranduil had told them that the prince wanted to stay in Mirkwood despite the danger that Thilator still presented.

"Stay a few more days," the captain suggested.

Elladan made a small, noncommittal sound. "I suppose we should pick up some clothes for Legolas," he commented, turning down the hall toward the family rooms. "Do you know when the healers are releasing him?"

"I would imagine it would be a few more days," Brithdil replied as they slowed a pace so Elrohir could walk with them. "But it couldn't hurt...they finished repairing his room this morning, I believe."

"That was fast," Elrohir commented as they reached the prince's door.

Elladan pushed the door open, pausing in shock. For one moment he thought it was snowing in the room, but when he recovered he realized it was merely feathers flying about.

"What happened?" Brithdil asked, pushing past the twins.

"The pillows," Elrohir replied, nudging the torn fabric with his toe. Someone had gotten into the room and shredded the pillows, leaving a window open so the feathers flew about the room.

"That is not all," Elladan said, grabbing his brother's arm and pointing toward the doors that lead to Legolas' balcony.

The curtains over the door had been shredded, and on closer inspection they saw that the mattress, too, had been torn open.

"Thilator?"

Brithdil shook his head. "I know I hit him...I don't know that he could have done this by himself."

The twins exchanged incredulous glances. "You mean there was someone else involved?" Elrohir asked in shock.

The captain threw open the wardrobe, grimacing when he saw that most of the clothes within had been shredded in a similar manner. "I do not know," he said quietly.

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A dark-haired elf clung to the trunk of a tree, staring at the palace. He was not far from the walls, certainly close enough that the guards could hear him if he shouted, but that did not matter.

Ice-blue eyes narrowed. He had heard the word spreading around the palace. Amarthwen was dead.

He had not agreed with her actions in the beginning, but as soon as he saw how much she was suffering he gladly tried to help. But he had failed...failed in turning the prince's family against him, failed in the gardens, and now he had even failed in keeping her safe.

The message he had left would not be forgotten.

Legolas would pay, Thilator vowed as he disappeared into the forest. Even if it took a thousand years, the prince would pay.

_End of Part Two_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: Part Three is coming next! The last part of the story...it's so sad, it'stwo-thirds over._

_The next chapter should be up within the next day or two. Part Three is, actually, also a sequel to _Beginnings_, so if you haven't readthat you might want to at least skim through it before you start reading the next part._


	27. III: Old Friends

_AN: Welcome to Part Three! Now we finally get to the timeline from the prologue (which means, of course, Estel is back). Okay, this is the part of the story that's a sequel to _Beginnings_, so it helps to have some knowledge of that story. That being said, there are some spoilers for _Beginnings_ in this chapter, and a few themes/subplots that kinda build off some of the events of that story._

_A word about the connection: _Fear No Darkness_ started off as a sequel to _Beginnings_. It was originally going to be about the confrontation in the prologue, with a flashback to what happened. Then the plot started to spiral out of control, and formed itself into this story. So this story is something of a prequel and a sequel. You can read the parts as three separates stories, if you want, I suppose. Anyway, there's between twelve and fifteen chapters (about) left...the outline says fifteen, but I don't know if something unnecessary will be cut or not._

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Part Three: The Truth Unveiled

_Fall, 3945 TA_

Chapter Twenty-Six: Old Friends

"Estel?"

The young man ignored his foster-brother, bending his head over his studies.

"Estel?" Elladan put both hands on the table, leaning over the young human.

He gritted his teeth, focusing on the history text he was supposed to be reading. "I have to study, Elladan," he whispered, darting a sharp glance up at his mother, who was watching the two with an amused expression on her face.

"Will you be done in time to greet Legolas?" Elladan asked.

Estel could not identify the tone in his brother's voice. It sounded as though Elladan was teasing him, but why? "I will not if you do not stop interrupting me," he replied, trying to twist away from Elladan.

It was no use. The elf simply moved around the table. "How much more do you have to read?"

The young man nearly groaned in annoyance. "I have to finish this section of the book," he explained, turning the pages to show Elladan how much farther he had to go.

Elladan made a face. "That much? You will never be finished in time."

Estel grimaced. "Thank you, Elladan," he snapped, setting both elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. He read for another minute, stopping when he noticed his foster-brother was still hovering over him. "Did you want something?"

"Oh, I just wanted to tell you that we have received word that Legolas and his party have entered the valley."

"What?" Estel stood up, his movement accidentally sending the book to the floor. He dropped to his knees to pick it up. "When will they arrive at the house?"

"Should be any moment now," Elladan replied lightly. "Too bad you have so much reading to do."

Estel stood back up, pushing his book back onto the table. He looked over at his mother, a pitiful expression on his face. "Nana?"

Gilraen laughed. "I already spoke with Lord Elrond. If you will make your studies up after Legolas leaves, you may be released as soon as he arrives."

"Thank you, Nana!" Estel beamed, pushing back from the table with a grin. He barely remembered to keep from running as he set off for the front of the house.

It had only been about eight weeks since he had seen Legolas, but when he and his brothers had left Mirkwood the prince had still been under the care of the healers for a spider bite. He knew Legolas would have long recovered, but still wanted to see so for himself.

"Easy, Estel," Elladan laughed, catching up to his brother. "You have enough time to _walk_ to the door."

Estel made a face at his brother, but slowed down. "But you were talking as though he were already riding up to the house."

"I know," Elladan replied lightly, then laughed at the look on his brother's face. "Peace, Estel, I knew how excited you were about Legolas' visit and was merely teasing you."

The young human sighed, his cheeks turning pink as he blushed. The ever-youthful side of his brothers almost always infuriated him—one would think that elves as old as Elladan and Elrohir would have outgrown the need to tease a younger brother. Then again, he supposed that was something older brothers never outgrew.

They reached the porch of the house, looking out onto the long road that ran through the realm. Lord Elrond, Estel's foster-father, was waiting with a few other elves when Estel and Elladan arrived. The elf-lord glanced back, sparing a small smile for his oldest and youngest sons.

"Do you see them, Ada?" Estel asked.

"Patience, Estel," Elladan laughed, a hand on his brother's shoulders. "Elrohir has gone ahead to watch for them, he will tell us when they near the house."

Estel nodded, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. He heard another being step onto the porch, and glanced over when his mother placed a hand on his other shoulder. He reached up and squeezed her hand lightly with a smile.

He saw Elladan glance over into the trees, and turned to follow his brother's gaze. A few moments later he heard footsteps approaching—someone running toward the house.

It was Elrohir. "They're just around the corner," he said calmly.

Estel fidgeted. Sometimes he thought it wasn't fair that Elrohir could sprint so far without growing out of breath. Yet another thing elves could do that humans could not.

His mother squeezed his shoulder, and he tried to stop fidgeting. He knew what his mother would say if he did not stand still, but it was so hard to do so when he knew his friend was just around the corner!

At last, a messenger wearing the Mirkwood colors appeared. Estel barely heard the messenger announce Legolas' arrival, too intent was he on watching the company that finally rounded the corner.

He caught sight of a familiar blond head among the wood-elves, and his face split into a broad grin. His mother's hand on his shoulder tightened, and he realized he'd been fidgeting again.

Legolas slowly, almost wearily, dismounted from his horse and approached the porch of the house. His gaze flickered up to where the twins and Estel stood, and the young human caught the flash of an impatient smile while Legolas waited for the messenger to finish announcing his arrival.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Legolas Thranduilion," Lord Elrond finally said, as soon as the messenger had stepped aside. Legolas bowed, quietly thanking the elf-lord. "I'm sure my sons would like to show you to your room," Elrond added, a touch dryly, with a gesture toward the twins and Estel.

Estel smiled and started to step forward, but was surprised to notice that his brothers did not move. He glanced over at Legolas, his smile widening when he saw the wary look on the prince's face. He could remember how Elladan and Elrohir had tackled Legolas when they arrived in Mirkwood...were they planning something else now?

"Legolas," Elladan said in a rather detached manner. "If you'll come with us, your room is just down the hall from Estel's."

"Forgive me," Lord Elrond suddenly interrupted. "Elladan, Elrohir; I need to speak with you for a moment. Estel can take Legolas to his room."

Estel grinned even broader as his brothers shot each other somewhat dejected looks before following their father toward his study. Legolas watched them go, then laughed softly. "I think your father knew they were planning something," he commented softly.

"Yes," Estel replied, a bit hesitant. He and Legolas had become good friends during his visit to Mirkwood, yet he was not quite sure what to say. "Legolas, this is my mother, Gilraen," he finally said, taking his mother's arm and pulling her forward.

Legolas bowed slightly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Gilraen."

"Prince Legolas," Gilraen nodded. "My son has told me much about you."

"Do you want to go up to your room now?" Estel asked.

Legolas nodded. "I should probably change," he commented, holding out the hem of his traveling tunic.

Estel hesitated, glancing up at his mother. She smiled at him, gently pushing him forward. "It's this way," he finally said, leading the way back into the house. To his relief, his mother did not follow him. "I'm sorry," he suddenly blurted. "I forgot to ask how your trip was."

To his surprise, Legolas simply laughed and rested an arm across his shoulders. "Do not worry, Estel. I am not so formal a guest that you need to be on your best behavior."

The young human relaxed slightly. He was glad to find the easygoing friendship he and Legolas had had in Mirkwood was still there. "How was your trip?" he asked, genuinely interested as he and Legolas walked down the hall.

"Long. Long and tiresome," Legolas replied with a sigh.

"Did you see any spiders?"

"Estel," Legolas shook his head, chuckling. "Contrary to what you may have heard, one does not see spiders every time one ventures into the forest."

Estel smiled, glancing over at the doors they passed. "But did you see any?" he asked again.

"No, the colonies are likely still recovering from the tournament," Legolas replied in a quiet tone. Estel nodded in understanding. He still had a dream about the spider attack now and again...it was not the most pleasant of memories.

"Do you know how long you'll be staying?" he asked.

"Seven days."

"So few?" Estel burst out, then quieted. He reminded himself not to speak so hastily. "Can't you stay longer?"

"I wish I could," Legolas replied with a smile. "But any longer and we'll be in danger of snow blocking the High Pass. As it is, my father was hard-pressed to let me leave so close to the end of the season."

"Then why did he let you come?" Estel asked. He grimaced—he had not meant to ask that question, it had slipped out.

He heard Legolas sigh, and glanced up to see a saddened expression on his friend's face. "It is Autumn," the elf said simply.

Estel frowned. What did that mean? He stopped suddenly, motioning Legolas toward one of the rooms. "This is your room," he explained. "Ada said you used it before when you visited."

Legolas nodded, setting his pack inside the doorway. "Come here, Estel."

The young human slowly walked foward, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his friend.

The elf was silent for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts. "I told you about my brother, didn't I?"

"How he had changed since the battle four years ago?" Estel asked. "Yes, I remember."

"The battle was in the Fall. The anniversary approaches. It is a bad time for my brother."

Estel grimaced. Legolas had told him that his brother, Belegdur, was often overly critical because he had not quite recovered from the Battle of Five Armies. If Belegdur was worse during the battle's anniversary, perhaps that was why Thranduil let Legolas travel to Mirkwood even though he could not stay for very long.

"Don't tell your brothers?" Legolas asked.

"I won't," Estel promised. He had no idea why Legolas would want to keep this a secret from Elladan and Elrohir, but was willing to keep it if Legolas asked. "Speaking of my brothers, I wonder where they are?"

Legolas gave a slight grin. "No doubt on their way as we speak."

As though to punctuate his words, a loud knock sounded at the door, followed by two dark-haired elves entering anyway. "Hello, Legolas!" Elrohir smiled, sitting on Legolas' other side and wrapping one arm around him in a half-hug.

"What did your father need to speak with you about?" Legolas asked with an innocent expression.

Elladan simply groaned. "He wanted to know if we were planning any excursions while you were here, and if he should restock his healing supplies accordingly."

Estel snorted in laughter, barely restraining it as his brothers glared at him. "Perhaps he should," he suggested instead, managing to keep his face expressionless.

"We aren't that bad," Elladan retorted with a theatrical groan, sinking down to sit on the floor against the wall."

"You aren't?" Legolas asked. "I seem to recall a certain elf breaking his ankle in the gardens the day I first arrived here," he said thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger.

"Ah, yes," Elrohir chimed in. "He had tripped in a rabbit hole, hadn't he?"

"He had been trying to run," Estel added. "And did not watch where he was going."

Elladan glared at his human brother. "How could you know? That was centuries before you were born."

Estel grinned. "Elrohir told me."

Legolas chuckled as Elladan simply groaned. The older elf glanced up, his sharp eyes fixed on the blond elf. "Perhaps I was a bit accident-prone that day," he said slowly, a rather devious glint in his eyes. "However, I remember a certain elfling slipping off of one of the chairs in the library and nearly breaking his own ankle."

"I thought that was in the kitchens," Elrohir interjected. "The floors had recently been scrubbed and he could not hold his balance."

"Nay, it was the stables," Elladan retorted, grinning. "When he tried to climb onto one of the great horses."

"The gardens...he did not see a stone in his path."

Estel looked at Legolas, holding in a laugh as his friend reddened deeply. "Did all of those things really happen to you?" he asked.

"All of those? Of course!" Elrohir replied before Legolas could speak. "And many more!"

"Aye, it would take several days to list the many things that happened to dear little Legolas during his years here in Rivendell," Elladan added.

"However, it would only take a few hours to tell of the first three years," Elrohir said, his eyes twinkling.

Legolas shook his head. "I forgot to mention, my father wanted me to proceed directly to Lothlorien upon my arrival here. I must leave now."

"Legolas," Elrohir laughed in protest, grabbing his friend's arm when Legolas stood as though he was about to leave. "Very well, we shall not share _every_ story of your childhood."

"Indeed not," Elladan agreed. "We shall share some of Estel's as well."

Estel grimaced, catching a sympathetic look from Legolas. Many of the stories about him were likely more embarrassing than the ones about the prince, as most of them involved the clumsy stages he had gone through in recent years.

"Worry not, Estel," Legolas said calmly. "We can simply ask your father to share some stories about your brothers at dinner. I am sure he would be glad to do so in front of the guests."

The young human laughed as his brothers suddenly looked very worried. Legolas soon joined him, and within moments all four were laughing together.

"I'm so glad you could come to visit, Legolas," he said when he could finally speak again.

The prince smiled, wrapping an arm around Estel. "So am I."

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: Aww, how sweet...of course, we all know it can't stay this way for very long._

_I have no idea what Aragorn would have called his mother when he was a child, but the elvish term (Nana, short for Naneth) seemed the most plausible. _

_Review Responses for the last few weeks are all done, but I haven't posted them yet. They should be up on my homepage tomorrow._


	28. III: Plans and Memories

_This chapter is a repost...I haven't finished the next one yet, but I haven't been getting reviewalerts since I originally posted this and wanted to rule it out as a reason._

_AN: Hey. Ah, sorry to leave y'all hanging, I know I said in some review responses I'd have this up Thursday, but...it's kinda been a rough couple of days (I'll tell you if you really want the whole woeful story...yeah, didn't think you would). Barring unforeseen consequences, the next chapter should be up no later than Tuesday, though._

_This chapter is mostly just a little more fluff. The action begins in the next chapter._

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Chapter Twenty-Seven: Plans and Memories

Lord Elrond smiled as his sons and the prince came down for dinner. He had been slightly hesitant when Thranduil had sent him a message asking for permission for Legolas to visit, only because he knew the coming change in seasons could make the return trip difficult.

But seeing the prince with the twins and Estel, the elf-lord was glad that he had agreed.

That is, of course, if the four of them could manage to stay out of trouble. Which was not very likely. But since the prince was only staying for seven days...Elrond inwardly shook his head. Seven days was indeed plenty of time for all four of them to end up in the healers'.

He studied Legolas critically, his healer's eye noticing the weariness in the young elf. It was easily explainable as travel fatigue, though he wondered momentarily about the burdens on the young prince.

Elrond sighed, smiling at Estel when the young human looked his direction. The bond between the boy and Legolas was remarkably strong for being so new.

He straightened up, drawn out of his thoughts when one of his sons began speaking.

"We should go hunting tomorrow," Elladan was saying.

"Aye," Elrohir agreed, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth. "I believe Legolas is old enough to accompany us this time."

Legolas grimaced, shaking his head and looking down at the table.

"Why? What are you talking about?" Estel asked, looking from his brothers to the prince and back.

"It is an old story," Elladan began, grinning at his father when he noticed the elf-lord's attention. "Estel, you know that Legolas lived here as an elfling, don't you? Well, a few years after his arrival 'Ro and I had to go hunting."

Legolas groaned, covering his face with one hand. "And they would not let me come with them. Where were you suggesting we go?" he asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Aye, we would not let him come because he was too young. But he was determined to accompany us anyway," Elrohir said.

Elrond smiled to himself. He could well remember where this story was going.

"So he tried to follow us," Elrohir continued, "but was not very good at tracking and promptly went the wrong direction."

"He was lost overnight, Estel, and by the time we found him he was covered with mud and stuck in a prickly bush."

"Which I had run into because I thought something was chasing me," Legolas interjected. "You failed to mention that I was out so far because I followed you out and you tried to send me home," he added, pointing at Elladan.

"I had not heard that part of the tale," Elrond commented, smiling at the suddenly-guilty expressions on his sons' faces. The incident was likely well over four hundred years old, but the twins' reactions were still priceless.

"Yes, well..." Elrohir hemmed. "I thought perhaps we could ride through the woods to the north," he began. "There have been reports of deer in that area."

"And it would not have taken any time from your hunt to simply bring me back," Legolas retorted with a grin, not letting Elrohir change the subject. "I could have been eaten by wolves!"

This brought laughter around the table. "Legolas, there were no wolves in that part of the forest. Did we mention that it was a rabbit that was chasing him?" Elladan said, turning to Estel. "A little rabbit...and he thought it was a wolf."

Elrond smiled again. He had been carefully watching the prince, ready to step in and change the subject if the story-telling turned too humiliating for him, but Legolas had been taking it all in good fun. "That reminds me of another tale," the elf-lord interjected, to his sons' surprise. "It seems a little elfling decided to go against his elders' wishes and explore the forest on his own."

The twins and Legolas quieted, each unsure of who this tale was about.

"He had been told not to go out alone, but could not resist the lure of the trees. However, upon reaching the forest he and his brother were separated."

Legolas grinned at the looks on the twins' faces. Apparently this was a story that they had hoped would remain untold.

"The elfling had only been lost for a few moments when he came across the most fearsome of creatures. It was a huge monster with black beady eyes, and it made the most fearsome of rustlings and bellowings. The elfling immediately ran away, and as luck would have it he ran straight home. He convinced his rather anxious father that the monster had eaten his brother, as he could not find his brother anywhere."

"What was it, Ada?" Estel asked eagerly.

"It was a stag," the elf-lord replied. "Its antlers had gotten caught in a thicket. Luckily for the elfling, we found his brother not too far away. It seemed he, too, had heard the monster and tried to escape it by climbing a tree. Unfortunately, when he tried to climb back down he found his tunic was caught in the branches, and his father had to climb up to rescue him."

"Who was it?"

Elrond glanced at the young human with a smile. "Ask your brothers. I'm sure they will tell you."

But from the rather mortified looks on their faces, he doubted they would.

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"Did you really want to go hunting tomorrow?" Legolas asked as he, the twins, and Estel made their way up to their rooms after dinner. "Or were you using it as an excuse to dredge up embarrassing stories from my past?"

Elladan chuckled. "It seems to me that our story was worse," he countered.

"I think we should," Estel piped in, turning to look up at his brothers before any argument could break out. "Legolas is only here for a few days, we don't have much time."

The twins exchanged glances. "Do you want to?" Elrohir asked Legolas.

Legolas grimaced inwardly, seeing the hopeful look on Estel's face. Ordinarily he would have preferred waiting a little longer—he had only arrived that afternoon and doubtlessly his friends would want to leave at first light—but he could not ignore the young human's pleading expression. "I would love to," he said simply.

"Legolas," Elladan countered, stopping in front of him in the hall. "What's wrong?"

The blond elf blinked at his friend in confusion. "There is nothing wrong, Elladan. Why do you ask?"

"Your manner," Elrohir interjected. "Since your arrival you've been preoccupied. Did something happen?"

Legolas sighed. "Nothing important," he replied, trying to walk around Elladan. The older elf simply stepped to block his path.

"Legolas," Elladan stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest.

The younger elf glared at his friend for a moment, the sighed in defeat. "All right," he said, holding his hands up as though in surrender. "Three days ago, one of the members of my escort reported seeing a figure some distance behind us. He was not close enough to identify, but the figure has been spotted other times since."

"You think he was following you?" Elrohir asked.

"I do not know."

Elladan frowned. "Perhaps we should not go, then," he said slowly. "If there is some danger..."

"He could not make his way past the borders," Legolas interrupted. "And if he did there would be four of us."

Elladan nodded thoughtfully, but Elrohir did not look convinced. "Was there something else?" the younger twin asked.

Legolas sighed. "I am merely weary from the journey," he explained. "That is all."

Estel had been listening with a concerned expression. "Perhaps we should wait a few days?" he offered.

"No, Estel," Legolas shook his head. "I merely need to rest tonight—if Elladan will get out of my way, that is," he added with a grin at the dark-haired elf.

The older twin pretended to sigh in annoyance. "Remember, Legolas," he said suddenly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him. "If there is anything else, you can tell us."

Legolas nodded. The only other thing weighing on his mind was his brother's behavior. Foolish as it might sound, he was concerned about how Belegdur would act while he was gone. He was often the target of his brother's ill moods, and some part of him felt guilty that another would be in his place this time.

He shook his head as he pushed the door to his room open. He was being foolish. No one in his family would begrudge him this visit to his friends simply because Belegdur would be more unpleasant than usual.

A soft tap on the door broke him out of his thoughts. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Come in."

Estel peeked around the doorway. "My brothers sent me to ask you if you would rather leave before dawn or wait until later in the morning."

Legolas started to say that before dawn would be fine, but changed his mind. "I think later would be best," he replied.

The young human nodded, and turned to leave. "Is everything all right?"

The prince nearly laughed. Hadn't he just had this conversation with the twins, and wasn't Estel there for it? "As I said to your brothers, I am fine."

Estel paused, then closed the door. "Is it your brother?" he asked quietly.

Marveling at the young man's perception, Legolas nodded. "Much as I do not like being the target of his anger, I worry about him. He can grow so depressed this time of year, though few see past his anger to notice. I cannot help but feel that if I were there I could help him, but I am not."

"But you will return soon," Estel said encouragingly. "Surely your father wouldn't have let you come if you were still needed in Mirkwood."

"I do not understand that," Legolas said with a sigh, shaking his head. "Other years I have asked permission to come, but he has always said it is too far. But this time..."

"What happened?"

"One of his councilors supported my request," the prince answered, smiling at the flash of surprise on his friend's face. "I was surprised as well...usually they discourage my visits here. It has been nearly fifty years since I have been able to visit."

"But my brothers have visited you," Estel stated.

"Aye," Legolas nodded. "I do wonder what made Maegdur change his mind. He is usually the most outspoken against my returning here."

"Who is he?" the young human asked curiously.

"One of my father's more important advisors," Legolas explained. "He has been with my father since before I was born...possibly since my father was still Crown Prince."

Estel's eyebrows raised in shock. "I can see why his opinion would be so valued," he commented. "I am sure he had reason for his counsel, though," Estel added.

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. He could not imagine the reason, however. Many of his father's advisors believed the prince's close friendship with the elves of Rivendell would only cause trouble in the future.

"I will leave you to rest," Estel said, suddenly breaking into Legolas' thoughts. "See you in the morning."

The prince nodded quietly as his friend left, his mind still wondering on Maegdur's counsel. He sighed, standing up to ready himself for sleep. He could always ask the councilor upon his return.

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: Just a heads-up here. In addition to regular (I hope) updates this week, if I get the time I will be posting a nice little oneshot, as well as possibly a shorterstory based in/around the trilogy (inspiration struck with all the grace of a two-by-four upside the head while watching_ Two Towers_ with my brothers and sister-in-law this weekend)._


	29. III: Trapped

_AN: I know, it's been a while. I'll try to get the next chapter up sometime this week, but I don't know if I can, honestly. Sorry._

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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Trapped

Estel slowly blinked his eyes open, staring for a moment at the pattern of sunlight on the ceiling. He could tell by the angle that it was not too late in the morning, though late enough that he was surprised no one had roused him sooner.

He climbed out of bed, stopping to stretch sleepily. He caught sight of the pack near the door and broke out into a grin—he'd nearly forgotten that they were going hunting today.

Dressing quickly and double-checking his pack to ensure that he had everything he needed, Estel slipped out of his room and made his way down to the dining hall for breakfast.

He spotted his brothers and Legolas at one end of the table and hastened to join them, gathering up a plate of food on his way.

The three elves seemed deep in conversation when he arrived, barely noticing when he sat down. Estel looked them over carefully, worried to see concerned expressions on his brothers' faces.

"Good morning Estel," Elrohir said with a sigh, shooting his twin a strange look.

Estel barely managed to return the greeting. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No...nothing really," Elladan sighed. "A man arrived this morning asking for help. The people in his village have been falling ill, and Ada has asked us to deliver medicine to them."

"Us?" Estel frowned. He would gladly accompany his brothers and Legolas to the village, but it would be surprising if Lord Elrond yet the young human along, particularly with an illness running through the village.

"Forgive me...I meant Elrohir and I," Elladan explained. "We shall have to postpone our hunting trip until tomorrow."

Estel nodded in understanding. One day's delay wouldn't be much, after all. "When are you leaving?"

"Soon," Elrohir replied. "The village is several hours away...we should return before nightfall, though."

"But we need to speak with Ada again first," Elladan commented, rising from the table. "I am sorry for the delay Estel, Legolas."

Legolas waved off his friend's apology. "It's not as if you planned this, Elladan."

The dark-haired elf smiled. "Oh? And how do you know?"

"A little elaborate for a ruse, isn't it?" Elrohir countered with a frown. "I doubt even Elladan and I would concoct an illness-stricken village as an excuse."

"I don't know," Estel hedged, spoon poised in midair. "I have seen many more elaborate ruses from the two of you."

Elrohir pretended to smack the back of Estel's head. "Be sure to mind Legolas while we're gone," he said sweetly, as though Estel were a small child.

"Yes, and Legolas, mind Estel," Elladan interjected in a playful tone. "I'm hard pressed to determine which among them is the elder," he mused thoughtfully, glancing at Elrohir.

The younger twin schooled his features to remain expressionless. "Aye...it seems every time I see the prince I am reminded of a rather precocious elfling who gave us many a scare."

Legolas huffed out a sigh. "Shouldn't you be going?" he asked. "I do not know that I can stand many more remembrances from the two of you."

"Ah, the prince is right," Elladan commented. "Come, Elrohir...I am sure the journey will provide with ample opportunity to remember more tales about our dear friend."

Estel chuckled as the twins left the room and Legolas simply groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sure they won't," he said, scooting down to the place Elrohir had vacated.

"I know," Legolas replied with a sigh. "It is the curse of the elves, I suppose," he added, a hand over his heart as though reciting some great tragedy. "To forever live with those who remembered you as an infant."

The young human tried to keep his face straight as he nodded, but burst into laughter. "I cannot imagine being thought of as an infant at five hundred years old," he teased.

"Wait until you're an adult, Estel," Legolas said, shaking a finger at his friend. "Then you will understand...when you're grown and have children of your own and your brothers are _still_ reminding you of your childhood antics."

Estel grinned, turning back to his breakfast. He felt a slight twinge, as he always did, thinking of his own future compared to that of an immortal elf, but even the shadow of his eventual separation from his family and friends could not depress him now. "Is there something else you would like to do today?" he asked politely.

Legolas glanced up from his study of one of the knotholes on the table. "I don't suppose your father would let us go hunting alone."

"No, not unless we promised to be back by nightfall," Estel agreed. He did not know that his father would agree even then, as he never had let Estel go out alone even for the day. But perhaps he would let the two of them go together. "We could ask him, even if we just go riding."

The elf winced a bit. Estel grinned quietly—he'd forgotten that Legolas had spent the last several days riding. "Or we could spend the day here," he suggested, though he knew his tone betrayed that he'd rather go hunting.

Legolas shook his head, standing up. "No, Estel...you are right. We should ask your father if he would let us go."

Estel beamed, quickly finishing his breakfast. In the back of his mind he knew the elf was only saying that because Estel wanted to go hunting, but he ignored the tiny voice that said he should reject his friend's concession. After all, once the twins returned he wouldn't have much time to spend alone with Legolas.

The elf waited patiently by the door while Estel cleaned his plate. The young human finally pushed the empty dish aside, sighing in contentment. "He should be in his study," he said cheerfully. "Come with me."

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Legolas followed the human, staying behind him just a pace. He smothered a grin as Estel explained the directions to Lord Elrond's study, never minding that Legolas had been there many times before.

The young human's chatter was cheering, though in his heart Legolas was still a bit concerned about the stranger that had followed him from Mirkwood. His heart was heavy, as though warning him against something—but what he could not say.

He glanced up as Estel suddenly stopped, knocking lightly on a door and peeking in. "Ada?"

Legolas waited for a moment until Estel leaned back around and motioned him forward. He met the elf-lord's eyes with a smile as Estel asked, rather animatedly, if he and Legolas could go hunting.

Elrond held up one hand, silencing the young man. "Alone?"

The blond elf could see Estel's face falling. "We would not go far," he spoke up, stepping forward to stand beside Estel. "Just a few hours out or so."

Lord Elrond still seemed a bit hesitant. "You brothers ill be returning tomorrow," he said to Estel. "Perhaps you should wait for them."

"We'd be back by nightfall," Estel pleaded, sounding less than his fourteen years. "We won't even hunt, we'll just go riding."

Legolas started to agree to his friend's plea, but saw the smile the elf-lord was trying to hide and remained silent. He could well remember moments like this from his years in Rivendell. Lord Elrond had just about given his permission, but was waiting to see if Estel offered more restrictions on their activity.

Sure enough, the young human took the bait.

"We'll only go out three hours," Estel added. "We'll be back in time for supper, even."

The elf-lord met Legolas' eyes for a moment with a small smile. "Will you promise to stay with Legolas and follow his instructions?"

"Of course," Estel nodded.

"Then you may go."

Legolas hid his grin as his friend bowed, and followed him out. He could tell that Estel was holding in some cheer of joy, either from wanting to appear less childish in front of the elf or because he thought he was too old for such things.

A knot of unease settled in his stomach, but he tried to push it back. After all, what could possibly happen three hours out from Imladris?

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The fall colors in the forest surrounding the valley of Rivendell were breathtaking, as always.Estel and Legolas rode out at a leisurely pace, armed to hunt but not really focusing on tracking.

But Legolas could not shake the feeling of unease. Ever since his arrival the day before, he'd had the strange feeling that someone was watching him. Someone familiar...but he did not know who or why.

He was barely listening to his friend as Estel pointed out some of the changes that had happened in the last few years. Every sense was screaming that they should turn back, though he could not see any danger around them.

Legolas could hear the trees crying out to him, but above the churning in his mind he could not understand them. He reigned his horse in, patting the good beast to quiet it and opening his mouth to call to Estel.

A whisper of warning, the faintest disturbance in the forest to his left, was all he heard. "Estel! Down!" the elf threw himself off his horse, landing in a crouch as an arrow thunked into the tree behind him, flying through the air where his body had just been.

The young human joined him, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. "Who's shooting at us?" Estel whispered, his voice shocked.

Legolas shook his head. "Stay down...try to go back the way we came."

Leading his friend, Legolas crept down the dusty path, hoping their horses' confusion would help mask their actions.

It was no use. Another arrow hit a tree, embedding in the trunk a few inches above the elf's head.

It had come from in front of them, though.

"We're surrounded," Legolas whispered. He sat back on his heels for a moment, fully aware that they had no cover. So far their mysterious attackers didn't seem to want them dead, merely trapped.

"What do we do?" Estel asked. Legolas was surprised to find that his friend's voice was rather calm, that he'd been able to put aside his fear of the situation and look for a rational solution.

"I will try to create a diversion," Legolas suggested. "You run as soon as I give the signal." His eyes fixed on the point where he thought the last arrow had come from.

"No," Estel grabbed his arm. "There has to be another way."

"There isn't," he said, shaking his head and pushing the human's hands away.

"Wait!" Estel hissed, grabbing his arm again. "You don't need a diversion...we don't know what they want, we should just split up. You run up the path, and I'll run back down the way they came. They can only chase one of us—the other can go back toward the house."

Legolas nodded. He noticed the forest around them had fallen eerily silent, and no more arrows challenged them. "Ready?"

"Now," Estel called, springing up and sprinting down the path. Legolas followed his lead, albeit a bit slower, in the opposite direction.

He heard movement through the brush on either side and smiled to himself. Good, so they had followed him.

Abruptly, he was pulled up short as a cloaked figure stepped into his path, arrow drawn and ready to fire. Legolas backed away instinctively, noticing other cloaked figures coming out on either side from the trees.

He heard a gasp, and half-turned to see Estel facing the same down the path, being backed toward Legolas.

The elf-prince swallowed in apprehension. They were trapped.

"Surrender."

Legolas blinked in shock. The word had been spoken not in an elvish language, but in the tongue of men. _Are they human?_

He felt Estel back nearly into him, and reached back to grip his friend's arm encouragingly. "The trees," he whispered in elvish, hoping their attackers were unfamiliar with the language.

Keeping Estel behind him, he backed toward and older tree with a few low-hanging branches. Legolas hoped the twins had taught Estel to climb, as that seemed to be their only option for escape.

"Surrender!"

Their attacker was growing impatient. The cloaked figures to either side tensed uneasily, and Legolas froze for a moment. He slowed, bowing his head as though conceding. The bow to his right relaxed slightly, and he whirled around. "Up, Estel!" he shouted, levering his friend up into the branches.

He scrambled up behind the young human, clutching at the bark as someone below grabbed his leg.

Legolas tried to hold on, to pull himself free, but the grip was too strong. He was being pulled back down, and could do nothing to prevent it.

A sharp cry of pain pulled his attention up, and his eyes widened in horror as he saw the arrow that had been shot into Estel's leg. "Estel?"

The young human was barely hanging on, face taught with pain.

"Surrender, Prince, or we'll kill your friend."

Legolas froze, not quite realizing that his attackers had pulled him out of the tree. How did they know who he was?

One cloaked figure shoved Legolas to the ground, an arrow drawn and pointed at his throat. "Call your friend down, Prince."

He stared at the bow, tightening his resolve. They had done so much to take him alive...they weren't about to kill him now, and he was not about to take away Estel's chance to possibly escape.

But it was too late. The young human had heard, and was slowly climbing down the rest of the tree.

Estel landed in a painful heap, shaking from pain or fear, the arrow sunk in to his leg just above the knee.

One of the cloaked men pulled Legolas up to his feet, twisting his wrists behind him and binding them with a length of rough rope. The elf seethed as his friend received the same treatment, though one of the figures did stop to look at the wound on the young human's leg.

"What do you want with us?" he snarled.

The man binding his wrists chuckled darkly. "That's for the master to know, Prince. But he told me to tell you...this is a bit of repayment from an old friend."

Before Legolas could question his captor's words, sharp pain flooded his senses as something came down across the back of his head. He stumbled to his knees, ears ringing from the blow.

A second blow sent him into unconsciousness, and he collapsed senseless to the dusty path.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Oh, um...I guess I should have warned you about that one._


	30. III: A Face from the Past

_AN: Sorry this is later than usual, but...stuff happens. And real life keeps kicking me in the teeth. It's really starting to crash down over here, guys. I'm trying, but it's getting to be hard to post even once a week. But things should get back to "normal" in a couple of weeks. I hope._

_Warning: Cliffs Ahead._

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Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Face from the Past

A whirl of muddled voices broke through Legolas' mind as he struggled to regain consciousness. Two beings were arguing, men by the sound of them. They did not know he could hear them, so he tried to remain still. He managed to hover just between unconsciousness and waking, carefully listening but giving no sign.

His head was throbbing on the edge of awareness, and he couldn't quite remember why he felt this way.

Then one of the men shouted something, and he heard a younger voice cry out.

Estel.

With a start Legolas opened his eyes, groaning involuntarily as awareness brought pain through his head, and memory of the events of the past few hours.

He and Estel had simply been riding, and now they were captured.

Rough hands grabbed his arms and pulled him to a sitting position. He found himself staring into the glaring eyes of a rough-looking man. Dirty, dark blond hair was pulled back from his face to reveal cruel brown eyes and a scar that ran from his ear to his jaw.

"Walk," the man growled, jerking Legolas to his feet.

The elf almost collapsed, barely managing to regain his balance by leaning forward with his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes, waiting for a slight rush of dizziness to pass.

The man prodded his back. "Walk," he sneered again.

"Give him a moment," another man broke in. Legolas glanced over to see him kneeling beside Estel, half-heartedly wrapping a bandage around the wound in the young man's leg.

"We don't have a moment," the blond replied. "We're already late."

"Only because you hit the elf," the other man groused. "Get up, Boy."

Legolas bit back a hasty retort, grinding his teeth as Estel was forced to his feet. The young man's face paled, and he grabbed at a nearby tree for support.

"Get him walking," the blond man ordered, grabbing Legolas by the arm to propel him forward.

"Wait," the elf broke away from his captor's grip. "Let me help him."

"You?" the man sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Legolas refused to rise to the bait. "I will not go without him, and it will be faster if I help him."

The blond man, who seemed to be the leader of this band, considered this for a moment. "If I think you're trying to escape," he said dangerously, grabbing Legolas by the arm again and roughly cutting through the rope that bound his wrists, "I won't aim for his leg."

The elf's eyes narrowed, but he did not reply. He stumbled a bit as his captor shoved him toward Estel, fighting down the urge to whirl about and pin the man with an angry glare.

He cared not for his own safety, but would not do anything to endanger Estel.

"Estel?"

"I'm all right," the young human gasped, rubbing his wrists as one of their captors freed him. "Your head?"

"Do not worry about me," Legolas replied quietly, pulling Estel's arm over his shoulder and supporting him on his injured side. "Your leg?"

Estel grimaced, hesitantly taking a step. Legolas was still a bit taller than the young human, so it was a little awkward for the elf to help him along. "It's nothing," he whispered through clinched teeth. "Do you know who they are?"

Legolas sighed. "No," he admitted. "But, I wonder..."

The young human seemed to pick up on his friend's train of thought. "The man who was following you before?"

"Aye, man or elf," Legolas shook his head, glancing up with a slight glare at the blond-haired man who was leading the procession. "I do not know who was following me...but this is far too coincidental to be unrelated."

"Elf?" Estel asked, a touch of curiosity in his voice. "You think it was an elf?"

"I do not know," Legolas sighed again. "I could not see...were he not on horseback he could have even been an orc."

That comment had the desired effect, it seemed, for Estel snorted in laughter. The young human was then silent for a few more moments, apparently concentrating on walking.

"You should escape," he whispered.

Startled, Legolas could only glance at his friend. "No."

"You could...they're after you, not me. I could create a distraction, and you could run. They're only men, you could outrun them."

"I will not leave you here."

"But you have to, you have to go get help."

"Estel," Legolas gritted his teeth, glaring again at their captor as the blond man turned around to glance at his prisoners. "They will kill you if I leave."

The young man was quiet for a moment. "But will they kill us _both_ if you stay?"

"I do not know," the elf admitted. "But if we stay together there is a chance we could _both_ be rescued."

"How, Legolas?" Estel asked. The elf could practically see the frustration in his friend's eyes. "We did not tell my father where we were going. No one will even know anything is wrong until tonight."

"The horses," Legolas explained. "When they return without us, your father will know something went wrong. He will send someone after us, even if only to ensure we are not walking home."

Estel snorted again. "I do not believe he would think that," he muttered. "No, when the horses return he'll immediately know that something is wrong and send as many warriors as he can spare on our trail."

Legolas smiled. "How is your leg?" he asked, glancing down in concern at the bloodied bandage that had been hastily applied.

The young human winced, wavering a bit. "I-I think it should heal," he whispered, his voice a bit shaky. Legolas knew Estel had been training with Lord Elrond's healers, so he trusted his friend's judgement.

"You should leave," Estel muttered again, glancing at the cloaked figures around them. None but the blond-haired man had thrown their hoods back, and the two friends were still at a loss as to whether their captors were all men or if there were elves among them.

"I will not do that, Estel," Legolas replied.

"But you can escape."

Legolas glared over at his friend, more out of determination than any anger. "No, Estel, I-"

The blond man suddenly whirled around, stopping the party. "You," he jabbed a finger at one of the cloaked men. "Help the boy."

Legolas knew Estel was seething at being called a boy, but the young man quickly restrained his temper.

"And you," the blond man grabbed Legolas by the arm, yanking him forward as the cloaked man stepped up to help Estel. "You will walk with me. No more talking between the two of you."

He shoved Legolas ahead of him, keeping one hand on his shoulder.

"Your name, Elf?"

Legolas glared over his shoulder at the man. "You do not know it?"

"We were only told you were a prince," the man replied.

This brought an earlier conversation to Legolas' mind. "And who is your master? What does he want with me?"

The man glowered at the elf. "That is his business, not ours. All that matters to us is the payment he promised us."

"You are bandits, then?"

"Hardly," the man snorted. "I suppose you haven't noticed, Elf, but the harvest has not been plentiful this year. Then again, your kind have never troubled themselves with the 'lesser' folk."

"What of the elves of Rivendell?" Legolas asked. "Lord Elrond has always been willing to help those in need."

In reply, the man shoved him again, nearly sending him stumbling. "Do you really think we want hand-outs from a filthy elf like him?" he sneered.

Legolas was about to reply, but the man shoved him again, ruthlessly. He stumbled, barely catching his balance. The man started to shove him once more, but Legolas whirled about and caught his captor's wrist, twisting it up and behind the man. He caught Estel's wide-eyed expression, and gritted his teeth.

Chances were he'd just made a mistake, but he hoped the man realized how easy it would have been for the elf to kill him barehanded.

Two of the cloaked figures rushed forward and pulled Legolas away, one of them cuffing the back of his head in an attempt to daze him.

The blond man rubbed his shoulder, glaring at the elf. "Release him," he snarled, stalking over to grab Legolas by the collar of his tunic. "Try that again and I'll make sure you suffer a long, painful death, Elf."

"Should I try that again it would be to kill you," Legolas retorted, his voice dangerously quiet.

The man's eyes narrowed. "Keep moving!" he shouted to the company, again pushing Legolas in front of him.

"Shouldn't you bind him, Carmian?"

The blond man whirled to face the man who had spoken. "Idiot," he sneered, "he cannot escape. And should he try..." Carmian leveled a dark glare at the elf. "I look forward to the consequences."

Legolas returned the man's glare evenly. Inwardly, he was smiling. It seemed he had succeeded in distracting the leader enough that the men forgot, for a few moments, to cover their tracks.

He could only hope they had left signs enough for the search party Lord Elrond was sure to send.

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"Here," Carmian pushed Legolas aside to flip back the rough curtain that covered the cave's entrance. "The master's waiting inside."

Legolas stared past the man's arm for a moment. They had been marching for several hours, stopping just enough for one of the men to re-bandage Estel's leg and keep him moving. They had passed through the forest to more rocky terrain, into an area Legolas knew to be riddled with caves.

It had also been said to be riddled with trolls, but he sincerely hoped that was just a rumor.

"Get inside," the blond man growled, pushing Legolas into the cave. The rest of the cloaked men, including the one supporting Estel, filed in behind him.

It was dark in the cave, lit only by a bonfire toward the front. Legolas strained to see into the depths of the cave, and saw a solitary figure.

"You are late," the being grumbled, standing up and striding toward the mouth of the cave. He was hooded and cloaked, like many of the men, and Legolas could not see past the hood to discern the being's identity.

"We had a bit of trouble with this one," Carmian replied, jerking Legolas forward by the arm. "This is the master, Elf. He's the one who wants you."

Legolas pulled his arm away, glaring defiantly at the cloaked figure. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Without warning, the master backhanded the prince. He nodded to the men in the caves entrance, and a few of them came forward to propel Legolas toward the back of the cave.

The elf struggled, but in the end he was all-but thrown against the wall toward the back. His elbow stung where it had struck the rock, but he glared coldly up at his captors. He could see the master conversing with Carmian near the mouth of the cave, and after a moment the blond man nodded toward Estel.

The cloaked men dragged the young human forward, ignoring his injured leg. Estel bit back a cry of pain as he was roughly shoved down beside Legolas, and the elf put an arm around his friend as though to protect him from their captors. He could feel the young man trembling ever-so-slightly, though whether from fear or pain he did not know.

"What do you want with us?" Legolas demanded, glaring up at the master as he stalked over.

The master gave a low laugh. "You will soon see, Prince."

Legolas started. "That voice..." he murmured, his brow furrowing. He recognized the voice, but did not know from where.

Estel suddenly cried out as someone grabbed his injured leg, tearing off the hastily-wrapped bandage to clean the wound with a rag.

"Leave him alone!" Legolas cried, lunging forward to push the offending being away, only to be shoved roughly back against the wall. "Who are you?"

Their captor backhanded the prince again, leaving a stinging mark on his face. "No questions," he growled. "But so you understand..."

The hooded being shoved back his hood, revealing dark hair and the features of an elf. Legolas felt Estel straighten in surprise, but could barely see anything else past his own shock.

"It cannot be..." he whispered.

Light blue eyes glinting malevolently, a slow smile spread across Thilator's face. "Greetings, Prince Legolas."

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Dum! Dum! DUM! (just needed some suspenseful music, you know)_

_By the way...there will FINALLY be some answers in the next chapter._

_Okay, I have a question. I've been trying to build enough of an extra thread for a potential sequel. There will still be the resolution of the original plot in this story (i.e. the whole Thilator-Amarthwen connection), but I think I've spun just enough in to give a little room for a little more to the story. I just wanted to ask, would you prefer that as a sequel (it would be short, between ten and fifteen chapters), or as a fourth part to this story? I could do either way, really, but I just wanted to know if anyone had an opinion/preference one way or the other. Really, I'm going back and forth on this, so any input would be appreciated._


	31. III: Thilator's Madness

_AN: All right. I tried, I really tried to get this one out earlier. But I just started a temp job and it's been ten and eleven hour days (and six day weeks) since I began. So I finally got this chapter finished, but it's a little shorter than usual (sorry). I'm really hoping to be up to regular updates later this week or next week._

_You probably got two alerts. That's because Igrew paranoid when I couldn't link to the chapter through my own alert email and decided to delete the chapter and re-submit it. Sorry._

_Anyway, here's chapter thirty. I had to add something to the warning sign...just in case._

_Caution: Beware of Cliffs and Major Plot Twists_

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Chapter Thirty: Thilator's Madness

Estel frowned. Thilator's name sounded familiar, but he could not remember why.

"So glad you remembered me," Thilator sneered. "Pull them apart," he snapped to the men.

Two of them came forward, Carmian and a younger man who resembled him. The younger man, who appeared to be a few years older than twenty, grabbed Estel by the arm and started to pull him away. Estel resisted, not wanting to be separated from his friend.

"Tell your friend to cooperate, Legolas," Thilator ordered, crouching before the prince again.

Legolas still seemed to be in shock at the elf's appearance. "You're still alive?"

Thilator laughed. "I have been living in exile. You see, Legolas, the last time we met I was a simply tutor...but I have learned to survive. It was hard. I had no place to call home, could not risk returning to any of the realms. Four hundred years..." his eyes suddenly flashed, and he grabbed Legolas by the collar of his tunic and hauled him up to his face. "For four hundred years I wandered," he growled. "Alone...homeless, friendless. Always planning my revenge and now I have you...four hundred years of waiting, and now I have you."

He pushed Legolas back, beginning to pace back and forth in the small cave. Estel's eyes widened. Now he remember who Thilator was...he had been one of the elves who tried to kill Legolas when he was younger.

"Do you know, Legolas," Thilator said, pacing. "I always pictured this day. I knew it would come..._she_ always told me it would."

"She?" Legolas frowned in puzzlement, still trying to fight Carmian as the man tried to pull him further into the cave.

"Amarthwen."

Estel started at the name. He knew he had heard that one, many times. But wasn't she dead?

"She died, Thilator," Legolas said slowly. "She died nearly four hundred years ago."

"And you killed her!" Thilator roared, whirling around and lashing out at Legolas again. The prince managed to duck, just barely, as the tutor was too angry to notice he had missed. "You killed her!"

Legolas shook his head. "It was not me."

"You might have drawn the arrow yourself," Thilator said, suddenly calm again. "No, I have heard what happened. You might think yourself innocent, Legolas, but you are as guilty as the two who did kill her."

Estel grimaced inwardly. His head was spinning...he could remember some of what his brothers had told him when they returned from the Mirkwood tournament, but he was having trouble concentrating on what he knew.

"And she did nothing to deserve death," the dark-haired elf continued, his voice saddening. "Amarthwen was innocent."

"Thilator," Legolas struggled to his knees, beginning to stand but changing his mind when Thilator shot a glare in his direction. "Amarthwen was mad...she was trying to find revenge from an imagined fault, that is why she was killed."

"It was not imagined," Thilator snapped, whirling around. Estel barely kept himself from shrinking back against the wall...the dark-haired elf looked murderous. "And it was no mere fault...you took her away from her family, forced her to live in the palace and for what? For a brat-prince who was too selfish to notice how unhappy his nurse was?"

Estel winced a bit at the elf's words. Though he knew they were not true, having heard the tale of Amarthwen's madness from his brothers, he also knew they would still sting.

"You took away the only family I had," Thilator continued. "And then, just when she was finally happy again, you killed her."

"The only family you had?" Legolas asked, his voice colored with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Amarthwen," Thilator explained through clenched teeth, "was my sister."

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"Lord Elrond?"

The elf-lord turned slowly to face the scout, though he could tell by the younger elf's tone that the news was not good. "You did not find them."

"Forgive me," the scout bowed deeply. "There was no sign of them to the north. Scouts are still combing the forest toward the west. The east..."

"They would not go that way," Elrond interrupted the scout. The eastern reaches of the valley drew too near the foothills of the Misty Mountains, and while the passes had been clear for a few years he knew neither Legolas nor Estel would have risked venturing into goblin territory. For that matter, there was no game in that direction, and far too many scouting patrols for the young human and elf to have disappeared so completely.

"My Lord?"

Elrond glanced up, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar elf that bowed before him.

"Palandil, Captain of Mirkwood," the elf said quickly. "I led the escort to Imladris."

"Of course," Elrond inclined his head. "You have heard that the prince is missing?"

Palandil nodded. "I have come to offer my assistance, and that of those in my company."

Lord Elrond frowned slightly. "We do not know that anything has happened to them."

"Forgive me, Lord Elrond," Palandil shook his head, dark brown hair flipping over one shoulder. "I may not know your foster-son, but I do not believe the prince would be this late unless something did happen. Not when he is a guest of your house."

"No," the elf-lord agreed quietly. "He would not." Elrond sighed. He should have forbidden them from going...it would have been a matter of one day for them to wait for the twins' return. "My older sons will be returning this evening...perhaps you could join their search?"

Palandil bowed again. "Thank you, Lord Elrond. You may rest assured, we will find them."

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"Your sister?" Legolas asked in shock. His mind was whirling...he had not seen any resemblance between Thilator and Amarthwen.

But now...seeing Thilator with the same light of madness in his eyes, he saw it.

They had the same ice-blue eyes.

"She was not my sister from birth," Thilator said suddenly, a bit nostalgically. "Our mothers were sisters, and Amarthwen was only an elfling when I was born. My father was killed in the war, and my mother died from grief. I was only eight. Barely more than an infant.

"I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and Amarthwen became my sister. After my aunt and uncle left, she was the only family I had," his eyes suddenly hardened, and he began pacing again.

Legolas shook his head, fighting down his shock. "If you had told us," he began, but was nearly slammed back into the wall as Thilator turned on him again.

"It would have done nothing," the dark-haired elf snarled, tightening his fists in Legolas' tunic.

He shoved the prince away and stalked back to the entrance to the cave. "I will return," he called, turning around to face Legolas again. "And you will pay dearly for the years my sister suffered."

Legolas was too stunned to reply. He had finally learned the reason behind Thilator's treachery...but why did one answer seem to lead to so many more questions?

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN:I__f you were wondering, I've decided to go with a sequel instead of a fourth part. Anyway, I will try my honest best to get the next chapter up by the end of the week (and try to make it extra long to make up for this being so short). I may not be able to, but I promise I'll try._


	32. III: Prisoners

AN: I would like to apologize for the delay. You see, I have had problems with depression since I moved (the end of March). The past six or eight weeks have been really rough, and I have been unable to do any writing of any substance for most of that time. But now things are looking up, so I should be back to a regular update schedule from here on out. Again, I apologize for the delay, and thank everyone who has stuck with this story through these last few weeks.

Warning: A bit of a cliffie (not much of one, in my opinion), and some off-screen violence

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Chapter Thirty-One: Prisoners

Thilator disappeared into the darkening evening, leaving a whispered word with the men standing on guard.

Carmian glared at the blond elf and stalked over to the mouth of the cave. "Did the master say anything about out payment?" he muttered to one of the men.

The man glanced at him, and shook his head. "He said he still needed us...something about wanting help with the prisoners. He was a little angry we'd brought the boy along."

"Did he expect us to kill him?" Carmian snorted. Killing elves was one thing...they were the ones who locked themselves up in their perfect sanctuaries and ignored the problems of men...but he drew the line at killing children for no apparent reason. Granted, the boy was more man than child, but Carmian wanted to avoid that death if at all possible.

And something about that boy reminded him of his own brother. He caught Corben's eye from the other side of the cave, and nodded. Corben was younger than most of the men, just reaching his twenty-third winter. Carmian had raised him since their parents' deaths nearly a decade ago...a death he blamed on the elves. Plague had swept through the village, and the elders had sent for a famed elvish healer to come to their aide.

The elf had come, but had been unable to save many of those who were ill, mostly the very old or very young.

Carmian flicked a lock of dirty blond hair out of his eye and looked back toward the mouth of the cave. It irked him to be working for an elf now, but the dark-haired being had promised more wealth and power than Carmian could imagine.

"You will regret this."

The man whirled about, pinning the elf with a glare. He was a bit shocked to notice that the elf's gaze was directed elsewhere.

Then he noticed it had been the boy, not the elf, who had spoken.

"Corben, leave him," he called to his brother as the younger man started to challenge the prisoner. "Who are you?"

The boy glared up at him, though Carmian could see pain and just a hint of fear in his gaze, though he remained silent.

"What were you doing with the elf? Are you his servant?" Carmian demanded.

"No!" the young man nearly shouted, his gaze growing more contemptuous. "We are friends."

"Friends," Carmian snorted, nudging the wound in boy's leg with the toe of his boot. "Understand this, Boy, it is far better to walk unarmed into a bear's den than to befriend an elf."

"But you work for one."

Carmian snorted. This boy was wise for his youth...he could not have been more than fifteen summers, perhaps fewer. "You'd be better off with your own kind."

The youth opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced at a touch on the arm from the elf. Carmian's eyes narrowed. Were the elves trying to corrupt children now? It wasn't enough that they could deny aide when the human villages around them were failing, did they have to turn this young man against his own kind?

He grabbed one of his men by the tunic, pulling him a few steps aside. "Go find Lothram," he hissed. "I have something I need him to do."

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A slow hour passed, Carmian still pacing like a caged animal the entire time. Legolas had managed to scoot next to Estel again, and had occupied himself with checking his friend's wound.

Estel did not seem to notice him much. The young man had weakened over the last hour, though whether from blood loss, infection, or simple exhaustion Legolas could not be sure.

"I wonder if they plan to feed us," Estel suddenly whispered, his voice faint.

Legolas glanced at him, frowning when he noticed the striking pallor to his friend's face. "Estel?"

"I will be fine...it just hurts."

The elf saw the young human grit his teeth as he shifted position. He had not spent enough time among men to recognize any signs of illness in Estel, but his friend did not seem particularly feverish, nor had his wound bled for very long. "We have to find a way for you to escape," he said quietly.

"No," Estel shook his head. "Legolas...I cannot walk, not very far. It would be better if you escaped."

"They will hunt me down again," the elf stated. "Thilator was after me...if you were to escape, he might not notice your departure."

Estel sighed. "Maybe we should wait to decide," he suggested. "We don't know what Thilator is planning to do."

Legolas bit back a snort. He could figure out what the older elf was planning, considering the former tutor's connection with Amarthwen. "Thilator was after me...if you were to escape, he might not notice your departure."

"No," Estel shook his head. "Whatever happens, we shall face it together."

The elf started to protest, to make some argument to convince his friend to leave, but did not speak. He glanced up toward the men keeping them prisoner, studying the way Carmian paced around the small chamber. He could tell the man was dangerous...something in his bearing hinted at restrained rage, as though it was only Thilator's commands that kept him from exacting misplaced vengeance on Legolas and Estel.

"Estel," he whispered, nudging his friend. "Watch him."

Legolas glanced over, noticing Estel's eyes following Carmian's movements. The young human's brow wrinkled as he tried to see why Legolas had told him to do such a thing, then his eyes suddenly widened in understanding. "He's angry...but we already knew that from the way he was talking earlier."

"Keep watching," Legolas abruptly broke off his explanation, straightening up as a cloaked figure entered the cave. It conversed with Carmian for a while, then sat next to the fire.

Throwing his hood back to reveal a young man of about twenty, he held his hands out to warm them. "I expect the master will return soon," he said conversationally, glancing up at Legolas and Estel. "What's your name, Boy?" he asked the young human kindly.

Legolas felt Estel straighten up slightly, though his friend stubbornly refused to answer.

"Just tell us your name," the young man urged. "Maybe Carmian can return you to your family...the master will have no use for you, surely."

Estel started to reply, but Legolas nudged him sharply. He did not know that it would be wise to let this man know that Estel was part of Lord Elrond's household.

The young man chuckled. "My name is Lothram," he said, tossing a stick on the fire. "I can't keep calling you 'Boy', can I?"

"Lothram!" Carmian called, dropping to sit on the other side of the fire, studying the young man intently. "What did you see?"

Lothram shrugged. "Scouting parties scour the forest...looking for our friends, no doubt. We should tell the master, the searchers could find us in a few hours if we don't move on."

"Then I suggest you get your men ready to move."

Legolas barely felt Estel start, and glanced up to the mouth of the cave. Thilator had returned, his cloak slightly spotted with dampness. "There is another place we can go," the dark-haired elf continued. "Further out of the valley. Near a human village, I believe, so your presence will be less noticeable."

"What about the prisoners?" Carmian demanded.

"We'll bring them," Thilator replied, ice-cold eyes lighting on Legolas and Estel. "The boy will be no trouble...he cannot escape with that wound. And as for the prince," the dark haired elf flipped his cloak back to free his shoulders. "We will make sure he is no position to run."

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"The tracks stop here," Elladan huffed in frustration, clenching one fist in the fabric of his leggings.

"My Lord? Over here."

Elladan rolled his eyes, sharing an annoyed glance with Elrohir. They had been unable to keep Palandil from referring to them as lords, no matter how many times they pleaded.

"What did you find?" Elladan asked.

The Mirkwood elf was intently studying a tree, brow creased in thought. "A wound...from a boot."

Elladan looked at the trunk of the tree. There was a slight scuff in the bark, like a man had dug his toes into the tree to climb—or to resist being pulled down. "Estel?"

"Perhaps," Palandil nodded, pushing a lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes. "Did you find anything?"

"A few boot prints," Elrohir called from further up the path. "It looks as though the prince and Estel were attacked by several men...the undergrowth on either side of the path is trampled."

"They did not all cover their tracks," Elladan mused, kneeling to study the ground around the tree. "It would seem there was a group of men, but not all were experienced hunters...what does it mean?"

"It means we should hurry," Elrohir suggested. "It will be night soon. We do not know how far ahead of us they are."

"Do you think we're on the right track?" Palandil asked softly, brushing the trunk of the tree in a gesture of farewell.

"I hope so," Elladan replied.

"We have to be," his twin agreed. "Or we may not find them."

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Estel stumbled, biting his lip to keep from crying out. His leg was throbbing with pain, the hasty bandaging Legolas had been able to do in the cave having stopped the bleeding, but none of the men had seen fit to tend to his wound any more. A rough hand grabbed his arm, jerking him upright and pulling him along the path.

"Careful," the man whispered, tugging Estel sideways. "There are rocks littering the path. If you fall you will anger Carmian."

The young human swallowed a hasty retort, pulling his arm free. He feared he would not be able to walk much farther. His entire leg was throbbing, the pain shooting up his back to his shoulders.

"How much farther?" he asked softly. The man who was helping him seemed more sympathetic than the others, and certainly less devious than Lothram.

"Another hour," Estel could tell by the man's voice that he was shrugging. "If you swear not to run, I will see if the master will let me free your hands."

Estel swallowed again, this time fighting a sudden welling of nausea. He straightened up, determining trying not to limp as he walked. He wanted nothing from Thilator or Carmian, not after what had happened.

Memory flashed, and he winced. Thilator's way of keeping Legolas from escaping had been simple. He had pulled a leather strap from one of the packs and given it to Carmian, and the man had beaten the elf. Not severely, not enough to draw blood, but severe enough to give Legolas several bruises.

What stung Estel the most was that he knew the beating was not meant to weaken Legolas so much that he couldn't escape. It had served as an example...an example of what would happen to Estel should Legolas escape. Carmian had said as much, and had said he would not hold back if the prince ran.

Estel shivered, rubbing his face with his bound hands. He stumbled over another rock, a soft yelp of pain escaping. He nearly fell, jerking away as the man beside him tried to help him, and ran into another man. Estel froze, glancing up into Carmian's hate-filled eyes.

"Say the word and you can join us, Boy," the man sneered, holding Estel's shoulder in a bruising grip. "Why share the punishment of the elf when you can be with your kind?"

"If you are my kind," Estel managed to reply, "I would rather die with my friend."

Carmian's eyes narrowed. "So be it," he snarled, shoving Estel forward. "But remember this: the master can do no greater hurt to your friend than to harm you. When you see him beg the master to spare your life, remember that you could have saved him that pain."

With another shove against Estel's shoulder, Carmian slipped back to the rest of his men.

Estel stumbled again, and this time did not pull away when the man beside him took his arm to help him. Darkness was falling around them, but in the distance he could see the glow of lantern light.

The village, he realized. A human village, as Thilator said.

The barest of plans was forming in his mind. He had to speak with Legolas...there just might be a way for them to escape after all.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Palandil was originally created for another story...one I will eventually finish and post. So he will serve some purpose, I just decided to use him here since I needed an elf who wasn't already part of the whole story._

_If you recognized a name in this chapter please bear in mind that this part of the story is set only about forty years before_ Bad Company_. If you didn't that's okay...it's just a few things that are going to tie together in _Company_'s sequel._


	33. III: Escape

_AN: Wow. A lot has happened since I was last able to update. Sorry for the delay, and I'm actually not going to go into everything here. I kind of explained things in the author's note on the last update to_ This Happens Far Too Often_, and there's more information on my profile if you really want to know why I've been so absent for the last couple of months._

_This chapter contains references to the events in Beginnings. Some of them might be considered spoiler-worthy, so if you haven't read that story and are concerned about any part of it being spoiled, you may want to check it out before continuing in this story. It's nothing you have to read first, but just if you wouldn't want anything in another story spoiled, you might want to go read that one._

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Chapter Thirty-Two: Escape 

It was an old barn.

That was Estel's first impression of the place they were brought. Night was falling and he could not see much of the surrounding area, but once he and Legolas had been pushed inside the structure and a lamp had been lit he'd easily identified the building.

He half-closed his eyes in concentration, stumbling to the ground with a gasp as one of the guards pushed him down to sit against the half-rotten boards. He knew this place...didn't he?

Estel's eyes snapped open, and he craned his head around to find his friend. The elf was several yards down against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest and chin resting on them wearily.

"Excuse me," Estel called, managing to catch the attention of the man who had been helping him earlier. "Can I go sit with my friend?"

The man crouched down beside Estel, shaking his head. "The master wants to keep the two of you separated," he replied.

Estel frowned inwardly. "But my leg...I think it's getting infected." He managed to put as much of a youthful tone into his voice as possible, to make him seem younger than he really was. He felt a little guilty about using the man's sympathy against him, but escape was more important at this point.

The man hesitated. "I should ask Carmian."

"But my friend has had training as a healer," Estel protested, hoping the man couldn't catch that he was lying—even though his brothers often said Legolas had seen enough healers in his life to become one himself. "At least let him look at it?"

"I..." the man hesitated again, glancing over to where Thilator was in a close discussion with a few of the other men. "Only for a moment," he replied, standing up and grabbing Estel's forearms to help him to his feet.

"Thank you," Estel whispered, hissing in pain as he hobbled over to Legolas' side. He sank wearily against the wall of the barn, but forced himself to focus on his friend. "Are you all right?"

"I am so sorry I got you into this," the elf replied, his voice so soft Estel could barely hear it.

Estel blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Legolas raised his head to meet Estel's gaze. "They will not let us go," he said. "Thilator...he will not rest until I am dead."

"He won't kill you," Estel replied, shuffling closer.

"You don't understand—"

"No," the young man hissed. He glanced over to where the man was still standing guard over them, a suspicious look forming on his face. "You need to look at my leg," he whispered.

"Is it worse?" Legolas asked in concern, turning and gently prying at the dirt-crusted bandage.

"It does not matter," Estel shook his head. "Legolas, I have an idea."

The elf froze. The barest hint of a smile flickered across his face before he regained a serious expression. "You know, I have learned to fear that phrase when one of your brothers says it. Should I fear it with you as well?"

Estel snorted, wincing as Legolas pulled the dirty bandage off of his wound. "I know where we are. Remember when I told you about the first time my brothers took me hunting? It was only a few miles from here...the village we saw on the way was the place they took me after I broke my leg."

Legolas looked up, tearing a slightly-cleaner strip from his tunic to bind around his friend's wound. "What are you planning, Estel?"

"I know someone in the village. My brothers take him supplies every winter and help him clear his land every spring. If we could get to his house he would hide us and send a message to my father."

The elf had remained silent while his friend explained his idea. "Go on without me," he countered. "You can make better time on your own."

"No," Estel refused. "We can slip out before moonrise. I cannot walk all the way back to Imladris, so I could go to the village while you return to the valley. There should be search parties out by now—once you find one you could come back for me."

Legolas shook his head. "No, Estel, you must go alone. I will distract them."

Estel froze. "I thought I already said I would not leave without you."

"They will be less likely to follow you if I am still here," the elf replied, murmuring an apology as he tightened the bandage around Estel's leg. "Thilator is bent on his twisted desire for revenge...he will do nothing about your escape, whereas if I leave he will send his men in search of me."

"I won't leave you here alone."

Legolas managed a smile. "There are times when even friendship must stand aside for reason. If you do not go alone, there is no chance of either of us escaping."

"I will not leave you alone," Estel repeated, crossing his arms and frowning at his friend. "We can escape together, there must be a way."

"Estel," Legolas sighed. "There is no way. Trust me...I will be fine. You will likely reach the village even before they discover you are gone."

Estel began to protest again, but the gentle pressure of his friend's hand on his shoulder stilled him. "It is the only way," the elf said. "I will be fine...Thilator will not kill me yet."

The young human swallowed at his friend's words. _Yet_. Legolas believed Thilator would kill him. "C-can you distract the guards?" he asked, feeling an awful knot build in his stomach at the thought of leaving his friend in danger while he escaped.

Legolas nodded. "Stay here. Make for the crack in the back of the barn when they are distracted, I will hold them as long as I can."

Without another word, the elf slowly stood, his graceful movements belying any pain he might have felt from the treatment he'd received from his captors.

Estel swallowed down his fear and forced himself to his feet.

In his mind, he knew this was the only way to get help...but his heart was still screaming against it.

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"Here!" Elladan dropped to one knee, holding his arm up to catch his brother's attention.

The faintest impression of a heel showed in the dirt, barely noticeable by the faint light of the moon. "We're still on their trail," he commented, gesturing to the print.

"The same men...do you think they're taking them to the village?"

"I do not believe so," Elladan shook his head at his brother's question. "Remember the cave? They would not have paused there."

"The horses," Palandil added. "There were hoofprints around one of the caves...there are none here."

Elladan glanced wryly at Elrohir. He was so used to tracking with his brother and no one else, it was still hard to adjust to the Mirkwood elf's presence. But Palandil had proved to be a good addition to their party—the elf's ability to communicate with many of the trees had kept them on the right path.

"The moon will set in a few hours," Elrohir noted as Elladan stood.

"We cannot stop," Elladan replied. "We'll go as far as the village, if we have not caught up with them by then we can ask around in the village, see if someone there might know more about these bandits."

"Bandits?" Palandil asked.

"It is only an assumption," Elrohir replied, nodding at his brother's words. "We do not know if this was anything other than a random attack, if Legolas and Estel were simply taken prisoner by thieves."

"If you believe that," the Mirkwood elf replied dryly, "you do not know the prince very well."

Elladan let out a short laugh, clamping down on his amusement at Palandil's words. "Nor Estel. We should never have let them out of our sight."

"That doesn't always help...remember the tournament?" Elrohir commented. "They were in our sight, and still managed to almost get eaten by spiders."

"As much as I would enjoy hearing these tales," Palandil interjected. "It is growing darker still. The tracks are faint enough, we would not want to lost them completely."

The twins agreed, and in a moment the three of them were off again, heads bent to catch any sign of the faintest track.

But to Elladan, finding the tracks did not matter so much any more. He had a feeling they would find their answers in the village.

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"What are you doing?" Carmian demanded, grabbing a double handful of Legolas' tunic and shoving the elf back a pace. "I told you to stay put."

"Unhand me," Legolas replied, throwing every ounce of his regal bearing into his gaze. "You will release me, Human."

Under normal circumstances he did not like to remind those around him of his status as a prince of Mirkwood, but now it was time to make sure these men knew just who they were dealing with.

"Under whose authority?" Carmian sneered, shoving Legolas back again until the elf was up against the wall. "In case you haven't noticed, we aren't taking orders from you."

"You would take orders from an outcast as lowly as Thilator?"

"Outcast!" one of the men shorted in derision. "He's going to be king of Mirkwood!"

Legolas fought down his surprise. "And just how will he manage that?" he asked, pushing Carmian back with considerable effort, his aching muscles twinging.

"I will have you, Master Legolas," the thin, sneering voice of the former tutor caught Legolas' ear. "The king will bow to us once he sees what has happened to his precious son."

Legolas heard one of the men gasp, and another swore softly. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Estel creeping toward the back of the barn, concern written across his features.

It was time to act.

Just as Carmian and another man grabbed his arms to haul him back to the other side of the barn, he let his legs collapse and hung as deadweight between them, throwing both men off-balance. He then swung out of their grasp, sending the one man tumbling to the ground and Carmian stumbling to regain his balance.

With a roar of rage, Carmian lunged at Legolas...and ran into the wall of the barn as the elf leapt aside at the last moment.

As though on cue, the rest of the bandits swarmed the prince, each intent on subduing him and possibly gaining retribution for their fallen leader. Legolas fought them off as best as he could, but knew that even if he were completely fit he might have trouble defeating this many foes in hand-to-hand combat.

Through the corner of his eye he saw Estel slip out the momentarily-unwatched crack in the back wall of the barn, disappearing into the darkness of the forest beyond.

A moment later, a hand tangled in his long hair and pulled his head back, a blade nesting against his throat. "Do that again and I'll present your _dead_ body to your father rather than waiting until you're broken," Thilator sneered. "I _was_ going to let him see you alive one last time...just in time for him to announce his unfitness for the throne."

Legolas swallowed. So Thilator was not just after revenge...he was planning a coup.

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Estel stumbled through the dark woods, biting back a cry of pain as his injured leg twisted underneath him. He stopped to lean up against a tree for support, pressing one hand against the bandage Legolas had wound around his wound.

It didn't _feel_ like any blood was leaking through...but he couldn't be sure. The scent of blood, he knew, would attract any predators in the area—and for the life of him he couldn't remember if wolves had been reported this close to the village.

He fought his way on in the direction he knew the village to lie, leaning heavily against the trees for support. His ears were straining back toward the barn, listening for any sign that his escape had been discovered, and any sign that Legolas was in even more danger.

His heart thudded painfully at the thought of leaving his friend alone. Not only had he left Legolas alone in the hands of a sadistic and mad elf, but he also knew his friend would likely be punished for his part in Estel's escape.

The young man stopped, glancing back toward the barn. He could not leave his friend alone...he had to go back to help him.

Estel froze in mid-step as a dozen torches suddenly sprang into view. The men were shouting to each other, spreading out into the forest.

His escape had been discovered.

All thoughts of returning to his captors fled his mind. He turned and ran, part of his mind not caring about the noise he made while the other part thought, rationally, that the bandits' own noise would cover the sounds of his escape.

His feet flew out from under him suddenly, and belatedly he remembered that the barn had been situated in an area somewhat higher than the village, and that to reach the village he would have to descend a rather steep hill.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Estel curled up into as tight a ball as possible as he tumbled down the hill. His leg caught on something and he very nearly cried out, managed to clamp his teeth on his lip just in time.

Estel finally came to a stop, rolling into a rather dense thicket at the base of the hill. He fought for breath, gasping against the pain in his chest from his fall. Whether he was still in one piece remained to be seen, but he lay still for a moment to regain some sense of where he was.

It was then that he heard it; the slightest sound of a footstep in the forest around him. He could not see a torch, but knew beyond a doubt that one of the men had found him.

Estel thought he might have imagined it, but heard another step, and another. Someone was coming closer...nearly upon him.

He froze, closing his eyes as though willing himself to become invisible. The footsteps were coming even closer...if he made a sound, he'd be captured again._

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Mwahahahaha! Evil Cliffie Yuggster is back! Oh, wait...I mean: "Eek! Don't hurt me!" I'm sorry, but it's hard not to have a cliffie when you're this close to the end of the story! But I promise, something is actually going to go right for at least one of our heroes in the next chapter._

_There are only eight chapters left in this story. That's right, eight. This monster is almost finished, and if I ever attempt anything like this again in one straight shot (as in, I should have taken breaks and written other stories in between this story's parts), you all have my permission to have me committed. _

_Also, for those of you interested, _An Impossible Choice_, the sequel to _Bad Company_ is pretty much ready to go. I'm just waiting until I wrap this one up to start that one. I'm actually trying to get a couple of chapters written in between my other postings, so I may be able to post the first chapter as soon as I post the last chapter of this story._


	34. III: Lost and Found

_AN: I know I've been gone a while again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left the cliffhanger for so long...and I can't promise posting will get back to it's regular schedule now but there has been a breakthrough. I'm just taking life one day at a time now. So let's knock this sucker out once and for all, eh, and finally move on to another story! How about it? Are you with me for one final pull for the finish?_

_Ha ha...I didn't realize until I started this chapter that technically I just pushed Estel off a cliff._

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Chapter Thirty-Three: Lost and Found

Estel barely dared to breathe. The footsteps were coming closer, and sounded right above his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though to will whoever was out there to just disappear.

A soft whisper broke the night, an unfamiliar voice asking a question.

A question in_ Elvish_.

A second voice answered the question, and Estel's eyes flew open in recognition.

"Elrohir?" he called out in a hushed tone, almost before his mind realized what he was doing.

The voices were quiet for half a heartbeat, and for a moment Estel feared he had been wrong.

"Estel?" The incredulous tone of his brother's voice nearly brought tears to Estel's eyes. It _was_ Elrohir.

He started crawling out of the bushes, gasping in shock as hands gripped his arms to help pull him out.

"Where have you been? We have been looking for you for hours," one of his brothers hissed, voice tight from concern rather than anger.

"They still have Legolas," Estel tried to explain, yelping as his brother tried to help him stand.

"Are you injured?" Elrohir—Estel assumed it was he, at least—asked in concern.

"Where is the prince?"

Estel glanced over toward the unknown elf. He could barely make out the elf's shape in the dark of the night, but could only assume it was one of the Mirkwood elves who had traveled with Legolas.

"This is Palandil," Elrohir explained. "Captain of the escort...Estel, where are you injured?"

"My leg...do not worry about me, you have to go rescue him."

"How many men are there?" Elladan asked, kneeling beside Estel.

Estel shook his head. "I do not know...there may be only a dozen, or they may have more I did not see."

"Do they know you escaped?"

"Yes," Estel hissed in pain as his brother's probing hands found his wound. "That's why I fell down the hill...they were looking for me."

Silence reigned for a few moments. "How did you escape?"

Estel swallowed. "Legolas...h-he distracted them. I did not want to leave him, but...he made me." He was afraid to look over toward the Mirkwood elf. Painful memories of the archery tournament flashed through his head...Thranduil's reaction to the attack in the clearing...he did not know what Palandil might say.

"What will the king do with you, Legolas?" Palandil muttered with a sigh. "We must hurry," he added. "The prince may be in grave danger."

"No," Estel interrupted, in a small voice. "The men who captured us...they are lead by an elf named Thilator."

He could feel the stillness in the elves surrounding him. "Thilator?" Elladan hissed the name, gently pulling Estel to his feet. "I thought he was dead?"

"He disappeared after Amarthwen's death," Palandil replied. "We thought perhaps he perished in the forest."

"But why would he attack now?" Elrohir asked, supporting Estel from one side as Elladan did from the other. "Did he give any reason?"

"He said Amarthwen was his sister," Estel whispered. "He...he blames Legolas for her death."

"As Amarthwen blamed Legolas for the madness in her own mind," Elladan muttered.

"But there is something else...he wants the throne of Mirkwood. He thinks he can use Legolas as leverage to gain control over Mirkwood."

"Quiet, Estel," Elrohir murmured. "That is not important. We will make sure he does not travel another day with Legolas in his clutches."

"We have to get you to a safe place first," Elladan added. "There is an inn in the village on the other side of this hill."

"No," Estel protested. "Leave me here...I'll hide again. You have to rescue him now!"

"Estel, right now the men are still out looking for you," Elladan replied, jerking his head toward the torches still visible through the forest. "Even if we could, it would not be wise to attack when they are so scattered."

"But he is in danger."

"And you are injured," Elrohir interjected. "As soon as your wound is cared for, we will go after Thilator."

"He could be hurting Legolas right now."

"We know." Elrohir's voice was so soft, Estel could barely hear it. "But he risked his life so that you could find safety...we cannot ignore that."

"And we cannot risk that you may be further injured," Elladan added.

"Please," Estel shook his head, trying to pull his brothers back unsuccessfully.

"You will understand some day, Estel."

Estel let his head drop, the throbbing pain in his leg seeming to grow with his grief. He did not see how he could understand...how could his brothers value his life so much above that of Legolas?

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Thilator was furious.

"Comb the forest, burn down every tree in the wood if you have to!"

Legolas fought the urge to flinch as the dark-haired elf abruptly kicked over an old barrel that had been sitting against the wall. "Find the boy!"

"But I thought you didn't need him," one of the men suggested hesitantly.

Thilator whirled around, pinning the man with an angry glare. "Tie him up," he growled, jerking his head toward Legolas. "Without the human to guarantee his cooperation, we will have to take more extreme precautions."

The man, grumbling something under his breath, grabbed a length of rope and jerked Legolas' arms behind his back, binding them tightly. The elf winced a bit as the rope bit into his wrists, but managed to hold his head high. "My father will never bow to your demands," he announced coldly.

The dark-haired elf muttered something, impatiently twitching a lock of hair behind his shoulder.

"He would sooner see me dead than give the kingdom to you."

Legolas watched as Thilator glared at the wall for a moment, then finally turned to face him. "By the time we are done with you, Prince, you will be begging your father to surrender the forest to me."

"Never."

His response sparked a bitter laugh from Thilator. "Do not be so rash, Legolas. Have I taught you nothing?" Thilator laughed again, his eyes growing crazed. "I see the lessons my sister and I so graciously gave you have lost their meaning."

Legolas grimaced a bit uneasily. Thilator was growing more unstable...he was quickly losing what little rationality he had remaining. "It is not too late," he said in a quiet voice, remembering Brithdil's final conversation with Amarthwen. "Release me...I will speak to my father on your behalf and you will not be harmed."

He bit back an exclamation of pain as he was viciously backhanded, his head striking the wall behind him.

"Carmian." Thilator's voice had dropped a bit in tone, and he suddenly seemed calmer. "Please do not abuse our guest in such a vulgar manner."

Legolas turned his head in time to see the angry light in the man's eyes as he backed away. "Why do you follow him?"

Carmian did not answer, as Thilator chose that moment to grab him by the shoulder and whisper something into his ear. "I must take my leave of you, Prince," the dark-haired elf said, bowing exaggeratedly. "But please, do take care not to ask foolish questions...I fear Carmian has no love for your kind."

Anxiety built in Legolas' chest as the tutor strode out the barn door into the night, barking orders to some of the men who were gathered outside. Carmian watched him leave, then casually turned back to regard Legolas.

"Get Corben," he muttered to one of the men near the door. "Tell him to bring the strap with him."

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"We will find Legolas as soon as you are taken care of."

Estel bit his lip in frustration. His brothers had taken to giving him the same response every time he asked why they could not simply leave him at the inn and go after the prince. To his mind, they could have left him at the edge of town and trusted him to get to the inn himself—there really was no need for the two of them to practically carry him the entire way.

"Do you not trust me?" he asked, growing more frustrated. He knew there was a time when they would have thought he would follow them no matter how badly wounded he was—and he might have done so tonight, had he not been convinced that his brothers and the Mirkwood elf could move more effectively without him.

"Of course we trust you," Elrohir replied. "But your leg must be tended to immediately."

"And the innkeeper may have information about the bandits holding Legolas prisoner," Elladan interjected. "Palandil and I will question him while Elrohir looks after you."

Estel suddenly stopped, startled out of his gloomy thoughts. "Palandil?"

"Yes, Estel, Palandil. The elf..." Elladan's voice trailed off as he suddenly realized the cause of his brother's concern.

"He is gone," Elrohir muttered, glancing over his shoulder.

"He went after Legolas on his own?"

"Perhaps merely to keep an eye on him."

"That was not particularly wise of him," Elladan commented.

"He was captain of the escort. It would be his duty."

The twins glanced at each other over Estel's head. As though by wordless agreement, Elladan gently slipped away from Estel. "I will follow him."

Elrohir nodded. "I will follow your trail as soon as I can."

Estel nearly protested again that he could find the inn on his own, but his comment was bit off when he nearly whimpered as he was forced to put more weight on his injured leg. Suddenly weary, he was glad of his brother's aide as he no longer knew if he could stand on his own.

"Almost there," Elrohir urged soothingly.

Estel bit his lip as pain shot up his leg with every step. He had not realized how much his rush to escape had wearied him, nor how much he had been depending on his brothers' strength. The inn was in sight, but the distance still seemed intolerable.

"Do you need some help?"

He started at the slightly-familiar voice, barely realizing that a man had slipped an arm around his back to help him walk.

Elrohir glanced over at the stranger, the frown crossing his features just visible in the light of the torch the man held. "We can make it," he said, his voice hardening.

"Please, allow me," the man insisted. "It is the least I can do."

Estel's breath caught in his throat. He knew that voice...knew it, and was thankful.

It was the man who had helped him before...the man whose kindness had stood out among the cruelty of his companions.

Estel did not know if the man had some plan for bringing him back to Thilator, but at that moment he did not care. All that mattered was that he had to know something of the evil elf's plans...perhaps something that could save Legolas.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

**_Minor spoiler below: do not read unless you either know the story of Estel's true identity (from the trilogy) or don't care about learning that information_**.

_And before you throw rotten tomatoes, consider this: Elladan and Elrohir could not risk Estel's life for the simple reason that he the Heir of Isildur, though he does not know it yet. No matter how much they might have wanted to leave him in hiding and rescue their friend, they had to make sure he was out of harm's way first. Sorry, I was just envisioning mass protest over a certain part of this chapter._

_Thanks to everyone who has stuck with my story through the dry spell...the best is yet to come._


	35. III: The Lesson

_AN: Ha! Check it out! Didn't even have to wait two months this time!_

_All right...warning for violence in this chapter and the next few chapters. Could be considered a bit more violent than some of the stuff earlier in the story...if you want a comparison look at the second chapter of_ Bad Company.

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Chapter Thirty-Four: The Lesson

Half-hearing his brother's explanation to the sleepy-eyed innkeeper, Estel's gaze tracked the man as he made his way down the inn's hall. He looked back once, flinching slightly as his eyes met Estel's.

The man began to climb up the stairs, and Estel focused his attention back on his brother with a hint of exasperation. He had been wanting to discover where the man's room was, in hopes that the man would know where Thilator was going. But it was no use...and Estel did not fancy the idea of creeping into every room upstairs just to find one man.

Ordinarily, he would not have been so anxious...his brothers were very good trackers and could doubtlessly find Thilator with ease...but something in his heart told him they would need more than skill to rescue Legolas.

"The only room left is upstairs," Elrohir muttered, slapping a few coins onto the counter.

"I will be fine," Estel whispered in reply, mind whirling. The possible implication of the kind man leaving Thilator's company was a bit disturbing. What would make him abandon his companions in such a manner? Did Thilator go too far, perhaps?

"Can you make it up the stairs?"

Estel glanced up in surprise. He had been so deep in thought he had not noticed that Elrohir had already helped him over to the stairs. With a nod and a grimace, he gripped the rail tightly and slowly hauled himself up one painful step, leaning on his brother.

The trip was agonizing, but they finally made it to the top of the stairs. Estel closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall for a moment of rest, but a soft sound made him glance up.

A door down the hall was open. It was barely cracked, but he could make out the features of the man who had helped him in the moment before the man closed the door.

Estel quietly counted the number of doors to the staircase. The man's room was the third one from the stairs on the right.

Hope again rekindled, Estel did not even notice the pain in his leg as his brother helped him to their room. If he could get the man's help, they had a better chance of saving Legolas...as soon as he could sneak away from Elrohir, of course.

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"Were it up to me I would not give you a sporting chance," Carmian growled, flipping the crude leather of the strap in his hand. "But the master ordered it."

Legolas groaned inwardly, shaking his head. "We do not seem to be evenly matched," he commented in a dry tone, eyeing the circle of men that had formed around him. He was a bit confused...what possible sort of "lesson" could Thilator have in mind by making him fight Carmian?

"Yes...I have a weapon and your hands are bound behind your back."

The elf let his head drop slightly, glaring at the man. "The advantage seems to be mine."

Carmian growled, lunging toward Legolas. The prisoner paused for a moment, then pivoted away on one foot and slammed his shoulder against his attacker. Carmian was caught off-balance and tumbled to the floor.

"You fight as a coward," he sneered, pushing himself up to his feet.

"I fight as I have been trained," Legolas countered. "You expend too much strength...it is far too easy to turn your own strength against you."

"Do not lecture me!" Carmian shouted, lunging toward the elf again. This time, Legolas let himself be caught and fell to the ground, easily flipping the man's body away with his feet.

Carmain again stumbled to his feet and swung the strap at Legolas. The elf ducked under the whistling leather and got within Carmian's reach, driving one knee into the man's gut.

The man huffed out a shocked breath, stumbling back. Legolas followed him, landing a kick on the man's shoulder that knocked the strap out of his hand. He continued with a few more strikes, careful to restrain his strength enough to not break any of the man's bones. He still held out hope that he could simply defeat Carmian without injuring him too severely, and perhaps earn some kind of standing with the men that would aide him in escaping Thilator.

Easily dodging more blows, Legolas kicked the strap out of Carmian's reach when the man tried to grab it again. The man got a few strikes in, but Legolas knocked him down again without much effort.

This time, though, he felt arms jerking him back as several of the men stepped forward.

Carmian climbed to his feet, wiping his mouth on his arm. "You are going to pay for that," he growled.

Legolas fought against the men who were holding him back, but their grip was far too strong. "Who is the coward now?" he retorted.

The man sneered, and raised his hand to backhand Legolas.

"Carmian!"

Thilator's voice split the air like the crack of a whip. "I thought I gave you instructions."

The man grimaced, letting his hand fall to his side. "He's trickier than we thought...we need to take more extreme measures."

The dark-haired elf snorted. "Beat you, did he?" He shook his head, running the long length of a whip through one hand.

Carmian glared from one elf to the other. "He needs to learn to respect us."

"Oh, I agree," Thilator nodded. "You, however, needed a different lesson."

The dark-haired elf's eyes narrowed as he leaned in until he was nearly nose-to-nose with Carmian. "Cross me again and I will do more than humiliate you in front of your men. There was more than one lesson to be learned here today."

Carmian glowered, lunging toward Thilator when the elf turned his back.

Thilator whirled around, easily evading the man's clumsy strike and sending him tottering unsteadily. The elf snapped his whip out, and a harsh crack filled the air.

Flinching, Legolas was stunned to see the bright crimson line appear on Carmian's back.

"Attack me again and I will do more than warn you," Thilator said, his voice dangerously calm. "Do not cross me, Carmian."

He turned back to face Legolas, striding over and capturing the blond elf's chin in his hand. "Do you see his eyes?" he asked one of the men quietly. "Do not stop until their light is dimmed. I do not want to see this same defiance when you are finished. He is becoming too hard to handle."

"But you said..."

"It will not matter," Thilator waved his hand in the air to cut off the man's protest. "Do nothing that will harm him permanently."

Thilator tossed his whip to one of the waiting men and strode to stand against one wall of the barn. "You should not have encouraged your friend to escape," he called to Legolas. "His presence would have saved you much grief. Now we must encourage your cooperation in more...painful...ways."

With barely a whisper of warning, one of the men drove his fist deep into Legolas' midsection. The elf grunted, more in surprise than pain, and before he had a moment to recover another blow caught him on the side of the head.

He fought to free himself from the men holding his arms, trying to twist away from those who were beating him, but to no avail. He wrenched one shoulder free, only to be stunned by a blow to the back of his head and wrestled into submission.

He had lost count of the number of blows by the time the men stopped. His chest and stomach were throbbing, pain exploding from the sensitive spots where more than one fist had struck. Wearily, Legolas rubbed his face against one aching shoulder, suddenly noticing that his bottom lip was bleeding.

Head lowered, the dangling end of a now-familiar leather strap appeared in his field of vision. He lifted his head to find himself once again face-to-face with Carmian. The man was grinning.

A sharp knife sliced through the rope binding Legolas' hands behind him. He stifled a moan of pain as his arms were shifted out to his sides, pulling at his stiff shoulders.

Apparently, Thilator was no longer concerned with keeping Legolas from harm, the blond-haired elf reasoned grimly.

He steeled himself as Carmian walked slowly around behind him. This time, when the first blow fell he was ready for it.

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"How are you feeling, Estel?"

The young human smiled at his brother. "Much better," he admitted, studying the clean bandages that now encircled his leg. Elrohir had helped him clean up and found him something to eat before taking care of his leg, and while Estel had felt a bit guilty about enjoying such luxuries when Legolas was still a captive, he knew he had to recover his strength.

"Now we need to find you something to wear," Elrohir said, standing up straight. "Too bad you are not quite tall enough to wear something of mine...and I did not pack anything in any case."

"I will be fine," Estel shook his head.

Elrohir raised one eyebrow sardonically. "Estel, your clothes are so dirty they are practically falling off of your body."

"Do not worry about my clothes," the young human protested. "I will be fine here...you should go after Elladan."

"First we must make sure the infection has left your leg," Elrohir replied. "I wonder if the innkeeper would have something...you stay here while I seek him out."

Estel nearly called out his agreement, but remained silent while his brother left the room. He waited until he thought Elrohir would have disappeared down the hall, and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

He stood with only a slight wince. It was amazing, really, how much better his leg felt after the little care his brother had given him. Granted, the medicine in the poultice Elrohir had applied was probably the reason, but Estel was grateful that he could stand without too much pain.

The innkeeper had found a stout stick and brought it up for Estel's use, as Elrohir had been expecting to need to leave the human at the inn for a few days. He grabbed the stick, leaning against it as he eased the door open and peeked out into the hall.

Elrohir was not in sight. Estel wondered how long it would take him to rouse the innkeeper, and if he would have time for his errand before Elrohir's return.

Estel was planning to find the man who had helped him and convince him to help Elrohir find the bandits' camp. He carefully counted down the doors, hobbling over to the steps and counting again to make sure.

Sure of the right room, he knocked on the door.

There was silence within, but Estel would not be deterred. He knocked louder, wondering if he should resort to banging with his walking stick.

Luckily, the door opened a crack and a familiar blue-gray eye peeked out. The man's eye widened at the sight of Estel, and he started to slam the door shut but the young human managed to shove one end of his walking stick into the crack to hold the door open.

"Please," Estel pleaded. "I need your help."

He could see the hesitation in the man's eye. Slowly, he opened the door completely and stared at Estel. "Why would you want my help?"

"My friend is still a captive," Estel explained. "You were one of them...you could help us find where they are taking him."

The man shook his head. "I cannot go against my people like that."

"But why?" Estel could feel tears filling his eyes, and he did not know if he had the strength to hold them back. He was tired, both from his captivity and from worry for Legolas. If this man did not help them, he did not know when his brothers and Palandil might be able to free Legolas.

"Carmian led us when our people were starving. He was the one who made the deal with Thilator. How can I go against the one who has kept us alive since the plague?"

"You helped me," Estel protested. "When I was injured...and again when my brother was bringing me here. Why will you do nothing more?"

"I cannot stand with Carmian and the others anymore," the man explained. "But I cannot stand against them, either. I may not agree with what they are doing now, but I will not get in their way."

"You would let my friend suffer for this?"

The man flinched. "It is regrettable," he said in a soft voice.

"Regrettable?" Estel's voice sharpened. He was well aware that this man could easily overpower him, if he had a change of heart and decided to join up with Carmian again. "As the deaths of the children in your village were regrettable? When is the suffering of an innocent merely 'regrettable'?"

"An innocent?" the man shook his head. "Thilator told us everything."

Estel snorted. He doubted the truth of that statement. "Did he tell you that Legolas was only a child when Thilator's sister locked him in a cell in the dungeons? That she threatened him into silence? That he was only five years old to the eyes of his people when all of this began? What great crime could he have done to earn such malice, and such apathy from you?"

The man was silent, staring at a spot on the floor. Estel shook his head, disgusted.

"Forgive me for troubling you," the young human said in a bitter voice. "I will bother you no longer." He turned and made his way down the hall, leaning heavily against his walking stick and fighting hard to keep his head held high. He did not want to let this man know he was defeated...but what hope did they have of rescuing Legolas now?

"Wait."

Estel turned. The man was looking at him, sorrow in his eyes.

"I will help you. But we must leave now."

He nodded, forgetting at once his resolution to wait for Elrohir's return. "I am ready."

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Legolas collapsed to his knees, crumpling to the ground when his arms were released. His back was now throbbing much like the rest of his body, but he suspected he was not bleeding. Evidently, Thilator did not want him wounded beyond what a couple of days of rest would heal.

Footsteps approached, and he automatically curled up as a boot prodded him.

"Let me see him."

A rough hand grabbed his head, forcing his chin up. He pried his eyes open to meet Thilator's gaze, putting as much venom into his own glare as possible.

Thilator laughed. "Your rebellion at this moment is futile...and amusing."

"My father will never turn the kingdom over to you," he retorted, wincing inwardly at the waver he heard in his own voice.

"Are you so confident?" Thilator gloated. "Tell me...did your father ever tell you why he sent you away when you were young?"

Legolas grimaced. He was not going to play this sort of game with his former tutor. Doubtless Thilator had some twisted version of the story. "I know why," he replied.

"Do you?" the dark-haired elf smirked. "So you know it was because he could not bear the sight of you? Because you reminded him so much of your dear mother...and because you were responsible for her death?"

"That is a lie!" Legolas struggled against the men holding him back. A strong blow to the back of his head dazed him, and he was forced back down to his knees.

"Is it?" Thilator chuckled. "Are you so sure?"

He did not wait for a reply, snapping an order to the men to prepare to move out.

Legolas was forced to his feet, and shoved forward when he stumbled. He flinched when rough fingers dug into his wrist, and found himself jerked around to face Carmian.

The human's face had turned ugly with hatred, and he brandished the leather strap he had used to beat Legolas in the elf's face. "Humiliate me again and there will not be enough of you left to ransom to your father," he sneered. "The pride of a man is not something to trifle with, Elf."

"And what of your master?" Legolas asked through gritted teeth. "I thought he was the one who decided that you needed to be humiliated."

"Oh, I will not forget him," Carmian pushed Legolas ahead of him, keeping a firm grip on the elf's arm. "It is nearly time for the master to learn a lesson himself."

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_Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?_


	36. III: A Treachery Revealed

_AN: Don't die of shock. I know it's been less than a week since my last update, and here we are with another chapter. Please bear in mind the chapter "Rumors and Enemies" as you read this...something comes into play here that you might want to go back to that chapter to check out._

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Chapter Thirty-Five: A Treachery Revealed

"Estel?" Elrohir pushed the door to the room open, a bundle of clothes tucked under one arm. "The innkeeper found something, and...Estel?"

The room was empty. Elrohir whirled around to examine the doorway, noticing that Estel's walking stick was gone as well.

He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, letting the bundle of clothes fall to the ground. "Not again."

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"What is your name?"

Estel blinked up at the man, carefully weighing what he knew about him. "Estel," he finally admitted, seeing no use in hiding his name. If this man was still on Thilator's side, he was in danger enough as it was that he had no need to hide his name.

The man smiled. "My name is Eliam. Your name...is it Elvish?"

Still a bit suspicious, Estel made a small, noncommittal noise. "I have heard it is," he said in a faint voice. "Where are we going?"

"Thilator and the others will travel by the larger road," Eliam explained, holding his torch up to indicate the path in front of them. "But I know where they are going...we can make faster time by cutting across this way."

"They should only be a few hours ahead of us."

Eliam grimaced just slightly. "Actually, this path is longer than the road...they may in fact be ahead of us by several hours."

"But why?" Estel stopped. "We should go back to the road, then."

"The road offers no cover," Eliam explained. "And while we can travel by the dark of night, when morning dawns we will be in full sight. This way we can get much closer to them in an unexpected way, and catch them unawares."

Estel frowned. He chose not to contradict Eliam's idea, but his heart was growing heavy. It would take them several more hours to catch up to Thilator?

A sudden idea came to him, and he quietly snapped a twig on a bush on the side of the path, careful to leave it dangling. His brothers had taught him to mark a trail that would be easy to follow, and while he knew that either Elladan or Elrohir would be able to trace his footsteps they would follow more quickly if he left a clear trail.

Eliam did not seem to notice, and as Estel trailed after him in the darkness of the night—though he thought it must be close to dawn—he continued to leave a trail of their path.

It would also be a clear sign to whichever brother who followed that he needed him. He did not relish the idea of following Thilator with a man of questionable loyalty—even though he had left the inn without a second thought. If one or even both of the twins happened upon them before they reached Thilator's men, so much the better.

"The road gets a bit steeper here," Eliam warned. "Do you need my help?"

"I will manage," Estel replied, ignoring the man's offer. The ground was beginning to grow rocky here, and he wondered why the path lay through the hills. "This will lead us to Thilator?"

"To his eventual end," the man replied. "We must hope we travel faster than he, the roads only cross at one point, and if we arrive too late this journey will be for naught. But if we arrive too early, he may see us anyway. It is dangerous."

"I am not afraid," the younger man retorted. "Legolas is my friend. He helped me escape at the risk of his life...I can do no less than the same for him."

Eliam nodded. "Very well. Prepare yourself...it is a long and difficult road."

Estel stamped his walking stick on the ground in agreement. His leg was just beginning to throb again, but he gamely trailed after Eliam, still breaking twigs on the side of the path.

No matter how long the road might be, he knew now that nothing would keep him from trying to rescue his friend.

Nothing.

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Elrohir had kept himself from pounding on every door of the inn to find out if someone had seen Estel, but it had been close. He did not know why Estel would leave—and surely the young human had left voluntarily. What sort of kidnapper would kindly let Estel take his walking stick with him?

The room had shown no signs of a struggle, so surely Estel had left of his own free will. Elrohir shook his head in exasperation, stopping only to tell the innkeeper to hold his room until he returned. After all, knowing Estel the young man would somehow get himself into more trouble and be unable to return to Rivendell without another three days' rest.

No, Elrohir shook his head as he slipped out into the night. Estel had gone after Legolas. Though why he had gone alone was a mystery to the elf. He had been expecting his brother to beg and plead and try to convince him that they should both go after Legolas immediately, but he had not expected Estel to go himself.

Kneeling in the dirt just outside the town, Elrohir's sharp eyes found his brother's familiar bootprints. One print was deeper than the other, and he could see a round impression from his brother's walking stick. So at least Estel had that much of a weapon should something happen.

Following the prints he slowly wound his way down toward the hills where he and the others had found Estel. The moon had set, but the stars were enough light for him to trace his brother's steps.

He paused as he noticed a second set of prints alongside Estel's. The other prints from the town had branched out, but this set had continued to follow Estel's all the way out of town.

No, Elrohir shook his head as he studied the prints again. Estel's footprint was partially inside one of the other prints...Estel had been following someone. He must have seen one of his captors and decided to trail the man in hopes of rescuing Legolas.

But the tracks were going away from the road, Elrohir noticed. He stopped for a moment, hesitating. Elladan and Palandil were following the main road, but Estel had disappeared on some side trail behind an unknown man.

He grimaced. There really was no decision to make. He would follow Estel.

He caught sight of a broken twig hanging off of a bush on one side of the trail and grinned. So Estel knew he would be following...good. At least the young human seemed to still have his wits about him. The trail he was leaving was a clear sign that he wanted Elrohir to catch up to him as soon as possible.

Leaving the main road behind, Elrohir set off to follow Estel's trail into the hills.

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"Keep walking!" Carmian snarled, shoving Legolas forward again.

The elf fought the urge to bite back with a sharp retort, trying to keep his focus on placing one foot in front of the other. It did not help that Carmian was right behind him, so if he slowed for a moment the human was ready to shove him again.

The ground was also much rockier here, and slightly inclined.

He did not understand why Thilator had ordered the men to split up, the larger party continuing down the main road while the rest of them broke a trail through the woods. He had heard someone mention a secondary path, one less-used than the road and thus less likely to be spotted. Legolas could only assume Thilator was making for that path, and that dividing their party would throw off anyone tracking them.

Legolas stumbled when his foot twisted beneath him, sinking to his knees despite Carmian roughly trying to pull him to his feet.

"Get up," Carmian growled.

He tried, but stumbled again as he realized his foot was stuck. Carmian, realizing what had happened, knelt down to free his foot, cursing all the while. The old roots of a long-dead tree had snared Legolas' foot, and Carmian viciously tore them apart and yanked the elf's foot free.

"Now walk," he ordered, hauling him to his feet and shoving him forward.

Legolas limped forward—to add to his other numerous aches, his ankle had twisted when he fell. The human behind him kept pushing him, every now and then shoving him to one side or the other seemingly to avoid some obstacle.

Rough laughter reached his ears, and he looked up to see Carmian's brother, Corben, and a couple of other men walking ahead of them. Corben glanced over his shoulder, met Legolas' eyes with a sneer, and turned back to his conversation.

Legolas watched the men for a moment, clamping his lips shut on another sharp retort as Carmian shoved him again. When Thilator had divided the men up, Carmian had only chosen five to accompany him with the prisoner. He did not know if these five were the most trusted of all the men, or if they were simply the strongest. But he knew at least two of them had been involved in the beating...one still had something of a bloody nose from where Legolas had managed to hit him when he'd succeeded in working his shoulder free.

Were it not for Thilator's presence, Legolas knew he could have bested all five men were he in better shape. Even in his current condition, he could have at taken out at least three unarmed, and all five if he had his weapons. But Thilator had some training as a warrior—Legolas still remembered the attack in the gardens nearly four hundred years ago—and he would not be so easily defeated.

Indeed, Legolas did not know if he could best Thilator now. For while the prince was a trained warrior now, Thilator had spent the last few centuries wandering the wilds alone and had undoubtedly learned a few rather un-elvish tricks.

Such as hiring men to do his dirty work, Legolas reflected grimly.

He fell again when Carmian shoved him over a bit of rough ground, groaning as his arms took the brunt of his fall. The human sneered, yanking him back to his feet with more force than was necessary, nearly making him fall again.

"Carmian." Thilator's sharp rebuke held a bit of warning.

"He fell."

It was obvious that the dark-haired elf did not believe the man's protest. "Do not touch him unless he is hindering our progress."

Carmian snorted in disdain. "Why? It is not as if we have to present him to his father direcly upon arrival. Or do you expect the king to pay the ransom right out-of-hand? Surely there will be time for negotiations."

"Ransom?" Thilator's voice darkened. "I never said a word about ransom."

Carmian halted, his eyes narrowing. Legolas glanced from human to elf, biting back his apprehension when he saw the change coming over Carmian's face.

"We are not going to ransom him?" the man asked slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"Oh, we will. Eventually. I have told you, I plan to use him to overthrow the king. Then your people shall have their reward. Thranduil will see his youngest son utterly broken. Then, with the second prince within our grasp, he will relinquish the throne to me to prevent another death."

Legolas nearly laughed. Thilator actually thought he and his men could capture Belegdur? His brother's skill was twice as sharp as his tongue, even if he rarely served as a warrior any more.

"You said nothing about another kidnapping," Carmian growled dangerously.

"It will be easy," Thilator waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "A word from us and half the realm will believe the second prince had a hand in this one's torment. My sister sowed those seeds years ago. He will be driven out when his brother's body is delivered to the palace, and then all of Mirkwood will be ripe for the taking."

Carmian's eyes narrowed further. "Have you been planning this all along?"

"Since the beginning," the dark-haired elf replied, oblivious to the shock on Legolas' face. Amarthwen had been the one to spread the lies about Belegdur? She was the reason so many had believed that Belegdur had locked him in the dungeons so many years ago...that his brother's action had driven him out of Mirkwood?

"Were it not for her murder, we would have succeeded four centuries ago," Thilator groused. "Even if it takes another four centuries, I will be avenged."

"Another..." Carmian's voice trailed off. He shook his head, a murderous light shining in his eyes. "You have not told us when we would be rewarded."

Legolas took a step back, halted by firm hands on his arms. The other men were watching the confrontation intently, but not so intently as to allow their prisoner to escape.

"In time," Thilator said, soothingly. "When Mirkwood at last becomes a realm of men and my family is avenged, your people will be rewarded."

Carmian stalked toward Thilator, his hands twitching near his belt. "How long?"

Thilator's smile was grim, even victorious. "As long as it takes. Perhaps your son's sons will receive their reward."

"You told us it would not take long to ransom the prince."

"It will not. After all," Thilator's smile broadened and grew more mocking. "One hundred years is not a particularly long time to an elf."

Carmian exploded in rage, his roar of anger terrible. Harsh fingers tightened in Legolas arm, and he felt himself jerked back painfully as though one of his captors was somehow blaming him for Thilator's treachery. His arm was twisted behind him, and he was forced to his knees, the cold steel of a knife pressed against the back of his neck.

He swallowed in apprehension. Surely they would not kill him merely to thwart Thilator's plan.

"Come now," Thilator said to Carmian, in a mockingly soothing tone. "Did you honestly believe an elf would constrain himself to one man's lifetime? What are a few generations of men to an immortal when there is a throne to be gained?"

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?_


	37. III: Betrayal

_AN: At last...the warning we've all been waiting for...Character Death! Death of a sort of major character in this chapter...but I don't think you'll be too unhappy about it. It's a little gruesome, so read with care..._

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Chapter Thirty-Six: Betrayal

Carmian struck in an instant, the hand that had been lingering near his belt flashing out clenching a knife.

Thilator easily evaded the human's strike, his face contorting in fury. "How dare you," he seethed, pulling his own knife out of his belt.

The man behind Legolas tensed, lifting his own blade away from the prince's neck slightly. The elf risked a glance up to catch Corben's profile. The man was studying his brother with a mixture of fear and pride on his face...pride at his brother's skill, no doubt, and fear that his skill would not be enough.

Carmian whirled and slashed twice at Thilator, infuriated when the elf blocked both attacks. He seemed to have learned nothing from his failed fight with Legolas, and was trying to use his strength to overpower his slighter opponent.

Thilator danced away again, laughing cruelly as the grace of his movements made Carmian seem almost clumsy. A murmur ran through the men, and Legolas winced as the dark-haired elf slapped Carmian with the flat of his knife before dodging out of reach again.

He was playing with the man, Legolas realized. Thilator could end the fight at any time, but was drawing it out, toying with Carmian.

Carmian's fury seemed to double, and he rushed at Thilator and managed to catch the elf in a broad sweep. Thilator stumbled to the side, blood pouring down from the wound in his arm.

"This ends now," he ground out, his mood changing from one of dark glee to pure malice.

The man seemed to agree with the elf's statement as he charged again, feinting on one foot and throwing out a blow aimed for the elf's belly.

Thilator easily side-stepped Carmian's attack, countering by throwing his knee into the man's stomach. Breathless, Carmian was unprepared for the vicious blow Thilator landed on the back of his head.

In a moment the elf had twisted the knife away from the man, and yanked his head up by the hair while placing his blade under Carmian's chin.

"I warned you of what would happen if you crossed me again," Thilator spat. "Let this be a message to all who would stand against me."

Legolas saw the murderous glint in Thilator's eyes, and turned his head. He had no doubt he had seen the elf kill before...someone had murdered Meledur that night long ago. He also had no doubt of what Thilator was about to do.

His stomach clenched as he heard the sound of a knife tearing through flesh...the gurgled gasp of a dying man...and was painfully shoved aside as Corben surged ahead, roaring a denial and raising his own knife against Thilator.

"Your brother was a fool," Thilator spat, leaping away from Corben's wild attack. "I pray you are not so foolish, Boy...lest you meet the same end."

Corben seemed to stumble near Carmian's body, but was on his feet in a moment, something clutched in his left hand.

His attack was in a similar style to Carmian's, so Legolas was not surprised to see Thilator evade every strike.

Rough hands pulled the blond elf back to his knees. "Do not move," a voice whispered dangerously in his ear, and from the scent of blood he knew it was the man he had injured earlier as fingers dug into his neck, nearly choking off his air.

Corben whirled away from Thilator, his knife flashing in the pale light of early dawn. The elf stood his ground, knife held up in a guard position, a taunting glimmer in his eyes. "Come, Boy, let us see if you can last longer than your brother."

The young man growled. He lunged forward, feinting with his right hand as Carmian had done. Scorn in his eyes, Thilator moved to block the incoming blow from Corben's left hand...

But it never landed. Corben had not been feinting...and his dagger plunged into Thilator's stomach.

The elf pulled back with a cry, hand clapping over his wound as he staggered away. Legolas could see the blood welling through Thilator's fingers as the older elf's knees collapsed.

Corben glared contemptuously at Thilator and spat in his direction. "No, leave him," he ordered as one of the men came forward to finish the elf off. "No short death for this one...let him die slowly."

Thilator, face paling as his blood trickled through his fingers, crumbled to the ground. His lips parting, tiny moans of pain escaping despite his best efforts at stoicism. "May my death...haunt you forever."

The same words Amarthwen had spoke. Legolas shivered, feeling as though some specter of the past had risen among them.

Corben snorted in derision. "I do not think so," he ground out, slowly turning and kneeling beside his brother. "Carmian?"

Legolas glanced back, heart aching for the young man as he watched him gently touch his brother's face. Corben brushed his fingers over Carmian's eyes, one hand resting on his heart as he murmured something over his brother's body.

Carmian was dead. Thilator's cut had been final and fatal.

The men would follow Corben now, Legolas knew. And, seeing the grief and anger warring in the man's eyes, he felt a small shiver of fear run down his spine.

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"Elladan."

Palandil's soft call alerted the dark-haired elf, and he swiftly made his way to the captain of Mirkwood's side. "What is it?"

"There is another set of tracks here."

Elladan sighed. He and Palandil had finally reached the barn where Estel said he and Legolas had been held, only to find no sign of their captors.

Of course, Thilator would have pulled out the moment he suspected they might be in danger, but Elladan had been hoping he would leave some sign.

"How many?"

"Perhaps six. They are not following the main road...you see? The tracks make for the hills, where there is no path."

"Yes, but which way did they take Legolas?" Elladan fumed. "The road would be a swifter journey, but they risk being seen along that way."

"Yet we have seen no tracks to mark the prince's journey in either direction," Palandil added smoothly. "There are many feet going on the road...a greater force than Estel warned us of. Their tracks could be hiding the prince's footprints...though I dare say he would have found some way to alert us."

"If he were able...and if he were unconscious and they were carrying him?"

Palandil grimaced. Elladan nearly apologized, he knew his words sounded insensitive in light of what intelligence Estel had been able to give them. "I do not believe Legolas would go anywhere without a struggle, unless he were too weak to argue."

Now it was Elladan's turn to grimace. That was likely the cause of the lack of signs from his friend...Legolas could be a handful if captured; Elladan had seen it himself once. It was amazing, in all consideration, how a being as lithe and graceful as Legolas could seemingly sprout eight extra arms and legs when being dragged somewhere against his will.

"No, he would not have gone without a struggle," Elladan agreed. "He must have been..."

"Let us not dwell on it," Palandil said firmly. "We must decide which way to go."

"Perhaps we should split up?"

"No," the Mirkwood elf shook his head. "That would be too dangerous."

Elladan's brow furrowed in concern, and a trace of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Suppose one of us were to meet up with the men keeping Legolas prisoner? Even if they were the smaller group, six is not a number I would gladly fight alone. Nor would I wish to leave the prince to find help."

"Ah," Elladan sighed. "Then we must figure out which way he went."

As Palandil stooped to examine the main trail more closely, Elladan found his gaze drawn back to the tracks leading through the hills. The prints all seemed haphazard, tracks of men struggling to climb rough terrain. Except one set.

Elladan knelt beside an odd print. This set of tracks seemed to be placed most deliberately, as though this man alone had been concerned of exactly where he placed his feet. Yet there seemed to be something odd about this track.

It was as though it had a slight shadow, a secondary impression in the soil. Elladan's heart pounded...this track looked as though the man who made it had deliberately stepped into another's track—to hide it.

He followed the prints up a bit, noticing the strange impression as he went. It was not constant, but he found enough other examples to form a firm idea in his head.

And were it not for the fact that he had no other evidence of another being's tracks near this set, he would not have been so confident that he'd found where Legolas had been led.

Excitedly, he led Palandil to the spot and explained his idea. The wood-elf knelt beside the print, gently tracing it with one hand. "If only we could be sure."

"I think we can," Elladan interjected. He was kneeling beside another print, one which looked a bit more scuffed about than the others. "See here, along the outside of the foot?"

"Yes," Palandil's voice tightened as he crouched beside Elladan. "That was made by no boot."

It was only a small sign, but it was clear. "Either Legolas has come this way, or someone has stolen his shoes," Elladan commented with a slight grin.

Palandil could not hold back a snort of laughter. "I do not think even Thilator would go this far."

"Perhaps not," Elladan shook his head as he and Palandil followed the trail into the hills, the faint predawn light making their way much easier. "But let us catch them before they have the chance."

He hoped Thilator could show some restraint. If the dark-haired elf had harmed Legolas even slightly...there would be no concern about taking Thilator to Mirkwood for his punishment. Elladan would gut him himself.

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Legolas stumbled, fighting to keep his feet as he was pulled ruthlessly along the trail.

His wrists had been bound again, this time with a long rope attached which one of the men held, pulling him along as though he were an animal on a lead.

It had been Corben's doing. The man had looked so dangerous, the hatred in his eyes undiluted after his fight with Thilator. For a moment, it had seemed as though Corben was going to kill Legolas outright, but the man had restrained himself and simply bound the prince's wrists and barked out orders for the men to keep moving.

He had set a terrible pace, ordering that Legolas be dragged if he could not keep up. The young man planned, it seemed, to carry out his brother's plot of ransoming Legolas to his father. The plan was risky...while his father would risk any ransom for any of his children, Legolas also knew that Thranduil would not rest until justice was brought to those who acted against his family. Corben might be rich for a few days, but there was nowhere the man could hide if the Elvenking decided to pursue him, unless he fled to the black lands of the Enemy.

Legolas was still a bit stunned at the deaths of two of his captors. He glanced over to where one of the men was dragging a travois carrying Carmian's blanket-wrapped body. Carmian had seemed to bear such hatred for his prisoner...it was a little hard to believe he was gone.

And Thilator...Corben had left Thilator to die. Even if the elf were to somehow survive his wounds, he would surely be too weak to follow them.

He slowly grew aware that someone was walking just behind him, though he could barely hear anything over the confusion in his own heart. Legolas glanced over, meeting Corben's hate-filled eyes.

"Let me go."

The man snorted in derision at the elf's quiet suggestion. "After everything that has happened, why would I do that?"

"I will speak to my father on your behalf."

"I know," Corben strode forward, grabbing the rope and giving it a vicious tug that nearly pulled Legolas off his feet. "You will speak to him and supposedly convince him not to kill us...to be merciful."

"No...Thilator was an enemy of my family. If my father learns that you killed him, he will reward you."

"And when he learns that I was also one of your kidnappers?"

"I will not tell him." He knew it was a risky idea. Corben had no reason to trust him, but he had hoped the human would at least consider the idea.

"So you say. But if we were to free you, what then? When you are back in your palace surrounded by a circle of protective guards, will you not betray us and tell your father the truth?"

"I would not break my word," Legolas countered in a soft voice, his heart sinking as he realized the man would not listen to him.

Corben sneered. "Forgive me if I do not trust the word of an elf," he spat, jerking his head toward his brother's body. "Keep moving. I do not think your father would pay ransom for your lifeless body." With a final sneer, he jerked on the rope again sending Legolas stumbling to regain his balance.

The elf flinched. His wrists had already been rubbed nearly raw during his imprisonment, and now the rope was tearing through his skin. Corben's comment, when he saw, was that such wounds would merely encourage Legolas to keep pace with his captors.

But there had been something in the man's eyes that had sent a sense of dread to Legolas' heart. The man was certainly grieving for his brother, but his eyes showed that something had changed deep in the man's heart.

Legolas could not explain it, but he could not help but feel that he was now in more danger than ever.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?_

_AN: I know Estel is not in this chapter, but that was because anything with him would have been deadwood. More traveling with no plot development...Eliam isn't so interesting an OC that he should tell his story here, or anything. But Estel will appear again in the next chapter and begin to take more of a part in this story._


	38. III: A Deepening Shade

_AN: I just want to apologize...I know I mentioned a while back that I thought this would be up within days of the original post, but real life kind of dumped a bunch of stuff on me the day after my last post (part of it is my job--I work in retail and the day after Thanksgiving is probably the biggest shopping day in the United States). But I'm still here! And here's the next chapter!_

_Warning: violence in this chapter...not too graphic, I hope, but I just wanted to give you a head's-up. _

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Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Deepening Shade

There were five left now.

The thought slowly entered Legolas' mind as he fought to keep his feet. Only five, and Thilator was no longer among them. He doubted that the rest of the men were as skilled as Corben, and it had really only been grief that had given the man strength against Thilator.

The only problem would be the rope trailing from his wrists, but perhaps he could even use that to his advantage. He managed to quicken his pace enough to grasp a bit of the rope in one hand, despite the painful numbness spreading to his fingers.

A quick glance assured him that Corben's attention was elsewhere, and that none of the other men were behind him. One was still pulling the travois, and two others were discussing something in quiet voices a few paces away.

Bracing his heels against the earth, Legolas gave a sharp pull on the rope.

The man who had been leading him obvious had not been expecting such a tactic, and let out a cry of surprise as the rope was pulled from his hand. His cry alerted the others, but before they could reach him Legolas had whipped the rope around and caught him across the face, leaving a stinging welt under the man's eye.

Legolas threw his shoulder against another attacker, knocking him back a pace, and struck another with his bound hands. He whipped the rope around again as one of the men made a grab for it, managing to flip it into the air and catch most of it in his hands.

A blow against his side caught him by surprise as he was driven to the ground by one of the men. He scrabbled against his opponent, but a large fist struck him on the side of the face and left him dazed for a moment.

He was hauled to his feet with an arm around his neck as the rope was pulled out of his hands. Legolas kicked out, choking as the grip around his neck tightened. His vision was beginning to grow hazy, his limbs heavy, and he clawed at the arm around his neck as he began to slowly suffocate.

"That's enough, Joren."

The man holding Legolas released him, and the elf collapsed to his knees gagging and gasping for breath.

"We are not trying to kill you, Elf," Corben commented, crouching to be at eye level with Legolas. "No matter what you think of us, we are not trying to kill you. What good would you be if you were dead? We would get no ransom for you then."

"What assurance to I have that you will let me live if you do get a ransom?" Legolas rasped, meeting Corben's eyes with a glare. He was tired of being hauled around like a piece of baggage...tired of being threatened, and of being treated like some ignorant child. But most of all, he was just _tired_.

"None."

Legolas snorted. "Then what reason do I have to cooperate?" he asked, glancing over to where the travois that held Carmian's body was still resting on the ground. "Your brother could not compel my cooperation...what makes you believe I will listen to you?"

Corben's eyes darkened at the mention of his brother. "You will not speak of him," he spat out, grabbing a handful of Legolas' tunic. "You know not of who you speak, Elf!"

He bit back an angry retort, knowing this was not the moment to argue with Corben. For a moment the man glared at him, eyes dark with fury. Then Corben shoved him away, standing up and stalking away to speak with one of the other men.

"I know more than you think," Legolas murmured, lowering his head with a sigh.

"Hold him."

Legolas' head snapped back up, and he found himself facing Corben again. The man's eyes were still furious, the light in them a mixture of grief and hatred. He was holding Thilator's whip in one hand, carefully uncoiling it and letting the braided leather rest on the ground.

The man behind Legolas suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, twisting him around and forcing him down toward the ground. He tried to fight, but Joren was too strong and in a moment the man was pressing his face into the soft earth, kneeling on his bound hands.

One hand rested on the back of his head, keeping him from twisting in any direction, and the other was clamped around his upper arm with bruising strength.

He tried to curl up to give himself some leverage against the man holding his arms, but another set of hands grabbed his ankles and wrestled him still until he lay flat on his stomach. Heart pounding, he could only listen as Corben's footsteps came closer. If only he had not been weakened by his ordeal...it would have taken almost no effort to free himself had he not been weary and beaten already.

Corben cracked the whip in the air experimentally. "Have you ever felt the sting of one of these?" he asked, the tone of his voice slightly taunting. "I did once...Thilator saw to that. The pain can be excruciating."

There was a sharp whistling hiss, and Legolas flinched briefly as pain lanced through his back. Joren's weight shifted slightly, and he felt the man tear the back of his tunic open, baring his skin to the cool air.

He heard the whip descend again, and this time the pain seemed to tear through him. Wave after wave struck, and after a few moments he realized Corben was shouting something though he could not understand the man through his pain-induced daze. He had not the strength to fight anymore as the whip fell relentlessly, clenching his teeth so as not to give his tormentor the pleasure of hearing him cry out in pain.

A man shouted, and the pressure against his legs was suddenly gone. Before Legolas could understand why the whip sliced across his legs, and he fought to curl himself up for some protection.

Corben was still shouting, frenzied, his attack relentless. Legolas' mind was edged in shadowy darkness, his consciousness rapidly fading in light of the abuse on his body.

Suddenly, the whip's attack stopped. The weight on his hands was gone as well, and he no longer sensed Joren looming over him.

Pain exploded in his side as a boot made contact with his stomach. He choked off a whimper, curling into himself as best as he could as he was kicked again.

He thought he felt something crack as the boot collided a third time, then all was blackness as his consciousness finally fled.

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Joren had been content to allow his friend to punish the elf, but now he grabbed Corben's arm and pulled him away.

"Release me."

He ignored the venom in the younger man's eyes, shaking his head. "You will kill him if you continue."

"Should this concern me?"

"How will we get ransom for him if he is dead?" Joren retorted. "I know you are angry over Carmian's death."

"He was my brother!"

"And he was my friend," Joren placed a hand on Corben's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "But this...if you kill him now Carmian's death will have been for nothing. Our people will still starve."

Corben pulled away from Joren's grasp. "Have it your way," he sneered. "We continue on our journey...drag the elf."

With a sigh, Joren bent down and hefted the unconscious elf onto his shoulders. "We will move faster if I carry him," he explained to Corben's dark glance. "He will walk as soon as he is conscious," he added in reassurance.

He followed as Corben set the pace, somewhat slower than when they'd been leading the elf. Joren was grateful—though his burden was strangely light, it would be more difficult to keep his feet while carrying the prisoner.

Joren stumbled, grunting as he hefted the elf a bit higher on his shoulders, feeling a slight twinge in what was left of his conscience as he considered what sort of havoc this might be wreaking on the elf's injuries. He hoped his wife would forgive him if she learned of this, though he did not plan on telling her _how_ they got the money the ransom would bring.

Isbeth would not have approved of kidnapping, nor would she have stood by while Corben whipped the elf more out of grief and anger than any need for punishment. She was always so concerned about nobility, about acting as though they were more than hunters and farmers.

Like her mother, Alira, Isbeth was convinced of some old prophecies of a king and insisted that this very year could be his return. Joren did not think her stories held much merit, but they had kept his wife living in hope despite disease and famine and the death of their child just last year.

Joren, however, could not believe. Isbeth might turn their children's heads with her tales and stories, but Joren knew the cold truth.

If there was any long-lost king, he was never returning.

Shrugging his burden higher, Joren doggedly followed Corben. If there was truly any hope for his people, it was the young man leading them now.

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Something seemed to stir in the air, and Estel froze. Eliam was a few steps ahead of him and turned to regard the young man, concern dancing in his features.

"What is it?"

Estel shook his head. "I thought I felt something..." his voice trailed off and he glanced up. His eyes widened in realization.

It was the trees. The air was still about them, but the trees were rustling. It was almost unnoticeable, but Estel had lived among the elves for most of his life and had seen things like this before.

Thus he was not surprised when they heard feet approaching through the forest to their left, though there was no trail there.

"Get down...hide!" he hissed at Eliam, diving into a bit of dense undergrowth and pulling his walking stick with him. He burrowed into the leaves as best he could, watching as Eliam concealed himself behind a tree.

Estel's body tensed as he watched the trees for signs of the approaching beings. A man struggled into view, his face somewhat familiar to Estel. He was followed by another man dragging a travois with a long bundle, and Estel's heart nearly stopped as he recognized the next face.

It was Corben, but there was no sign of Carmian or Thilator...or Legolas.

As he watched two more men broke through onto the path, and Estel clamped his lips shut as a gasp nearly escape.

Legolas was slung across one man's shoulders...whether dead or unconscious Estel did not know.

"Corben."

The young man glanced back, walking toward the man carrying Legolas as the rest of the party stopped in their tracks. "He's awake?"

The other man nodded, slowly lowering the elf to the ground.

Estel's stomach clenched and he shut his eyes for a moment, fighting a wave of nausea as he saw for the first time the damage done to his friend. He was only a few yards away from Legolas, and could see that the elf's face was badly bruised and his back a mess of blood and torn skin.

Corben propped Legolas up, leaning him back against the man who had been carrying him and uncorked a small flask. He tipped the contents into the semi-conscious elf's mouth, laughing as Legolas began coughing and spluttering.

"My brother's own homemade brew," Corben sneered. "He used to say it would make any boy into a man...let's see if it will keep you on your feet."

Legolas shook his head, apparently still slightly dazed. "W-where..."

The elf's weak question was cut off when Corben backhanded him. "No questions. On your feet. We're still moving." He grabbed Legolas by the arm and hauled him to his feet, shoving him forward with a sneer when the elf staggered. "Keep the pace or we drag you," Corben snarled, yanking on the long rope that was tied to Legolas' bound wrists.

Estel winced when he saw how the rope had torn into his friend's skin. He longed to help his friend, but knew that to strike now would only mean his capture. Perhaps if he and Eliam continued to follow them, they would be able to slowly take out the other members of the party and rescue Legolas.

A twig suddenly snapped in the woods, and Estel turned his gaze with the rest of the men toward the place where Eliam had concealed himself.

"There's someone out there," Corben growled. "Find him!"

Fighting the impulse to run, Estel forced himself to lie still in the underbrush as the other four men rushed toward Eliam's hiding place, leaving Corben to guard the prisoner. Any movement of his would alert the men to his presence...and he did not relish being taken prisoner again.

He heard a shout, and in a moment the men reappeared dragging Eliam with him. "We found _this_ hiding in the trees," one snarled, shoving Eliam toward Corben.

Corben's face darkened, and he stomped over toward Eliam dragging an unwilling Legolas with him. "_Traitor!_"

Eliam was shaking his head. "I could not...you know I hold no love for the elves, but I could not let you harm an innocent boy."

"You turned your back on my brother. He trusted you, and now he is dead!"

Eliam paled. "Dead?"

"Murdered by that treacherous elf."

Estel started, his eyes automatically glancing toward Legolas who looked like he was about to collapse. No, he inwardly shook his head. Legolas would be dead if he had killed Carmian. Corben had to be referring to Thilator.

"Carmian is dead?" Eliam asked, his voice soft and full of disbelief.

"Yes, dead. Thilator as well; I killed him with my own hands."

Eliam was shaking now. "And the prince?"

"To be ransomed. Had you stayed with us, Eliam, you would have seen that _we_ meant no harm to the boy. Carmian had even planned on taking him with us. He would have made a fine addition to our village."

Even from his position, Estel could tell that Corben was lying. Neither of the brothers had held anything but contempt for him, and he thought he would most likely have been dead by now had Legolas not insisted he escape.

"It is a shame," Corben continued, tossing the rope to another man and pulling out his knife. "My brother held you in high esteem."

Eliam's eyes widened and he backed away, shaking his head. "Corben?"

"You know the vow we all took. You know the price of your betrayal."

"But I did not betray you," Eliam insisted, his voice tight with fear as one of the other men grabbed him from behind. "I did not!"

Estel could not see Corben's expression, but he had a full view of Eliam's terrified eyes. "It was the price we all agreed on, Eliam."

"No! Corben, I can help you!"

Estel grimaced at the desperation in the man's voice, but Eliam's next declaration made his blood run cold.

"Let me help you! I can tell you where the boy is! He's right here!"

_

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_MWAHAHAHAHA! (sorry...the delay between this and the next chapter shouldn't be so long, though...I hope)_

_AN: All right...slightly off-topic here. Anyway, if you're interested in the sequel to _Bad Company_, go link to my homepage (still under overhaul) and check out the "previews" link on the bottom of the right-hand side. You can see summaries of the next three action/drama stories I have planned, and under the summary for _An Impossible Choice_ there is a link to a rough draft of the first chapter. _


	39. III: Terror and Shadow

_Still warning for violence in this chapter, and one for death of a relatively minor character_

_Oh, and MAJOR cliffie warning. As in the cliffie to end all cliffies...if you thought some of my other ones were bad, they're nothing compared to this one._

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Chapter Thirty-Eight: Terror and Shadow

Estel fought the urge to leap to his feet and run. He was shocked...but inside he felt he should have expected this. He could not believe he had trusted the man this far...only to be betrayed into the hands of the person who seemed bent on making Legolas suffer.

To his surprise, though, Corben merely laughed. "The boy? Do you really think he matters now?"

"You don't understand...he plans to rescue the elf!"

"Does he?" Corben stepped closer to Eliam. "Let him try. He is of no consequence to us any longer."

"B-but," Eliam's eyes had grown wide, "I thought you wanted him to ensure the elf's cooperation?"

"I have found another method," Corben answered coolly, sending a shiver down Estel's spine.

Eliam's eyes were darting back and forth in fright, and in one last desperate attempt to escape he tried to lunge past Corben only to be caught with Corben's knife buried in his stomach.

"Death to all traitors," Corben spat, shoving the other man to the ground.

Horrified, Estel turned his gaze to Legolas' pale figure, swallowing back a mouthful of bile as he heard Eliam's dying gasp as another of the men ended his life. He forced himself to push away the violence he'd just seen in light of his friend's condition, concerned by the weakness he saw there.

"Was he lying?" Corben suddenly called. "Are you out there, Boy?"

Estel bit back a snort, wondering if Corben really expected him to stand up and surrender himself after seeing Eliam's death.

"I can assure you we mean you no harm," Corben continued. "Eliam was a traitor...but you have been innocent in all of this. We will not hold your escape against you."

He refused to answer, knowing Corben truly did not know if he had been following Eliam or if the man had been bluffing in an attempt to save his own life.

Corben scanned the brush, his eyes darkening in anger. "If promises will not bring you forth, perhaps the threat to your friend will," he suddenly snarled, taking a step toward Legolas and backhanding the elf with enough force to send him to his knees. "I have beaten him once, do not make me do so again!"

When Estel still did not answer, Corben growled in anger and yanked the rope away from the man who had been holding it. Holding it near Legolas' bound hands, he brought the loose end across Legolas' back with a sharp crack.

The elf seemed to buckle, curling slightly as he struggled to keep from collapsing completely.

Corben struck him twice more with the rope. "Do you enjoy seeing your friend suffer like this?" he called, knocking Legolas to the ground and kicking him viciously in the side.

Estel could barely breathe, and as Corben shoved Legolas over onto his back and pressed him against the ground with one booted foot, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from the prince, he began to crawl forward.

A hand clamped over his mouth from behind, and he was silently dragged further into the underbrush. Estel tried to fight but another arm wrapped around him, the weight of a body pressing on top of him effectively pinning him.

He stopped struggling when a familiar voice whispered in his ear, and nearly collapsed in relief.

It was Elrohir. He had hoped that his brother would be following...surely Elrohir would be able to figure out a way to save the prince.

Corben seemed completely unaware of the struggle in the underbrush as he finally stood away from Legolas. "Either your friend is not out there or he is the most cold-hearted boy I have ever seen," he sneered. "We move!"

"What of the traitor's body?" one of the men asked.

"I care not. Burn it."

Estel's eyes widened as two of the men gathered dried brush and piled it around the blanket-wrapped body. Elrohir stood to a crouch, gently pulling Estel up to his knees. "They will not hear us now," he murmured in the young human's ear, helping him crawl through the brush to the denser part of the forest beyond the path.

Once they were far enough from the path to stand, Estel clung to his brother, shaking in fear and horror of what he'd seen as Elrohir's arms encircled him. "L-legolas..."

"I saw," Elrohir replied softly, pulling away and crouching down to be on eye level with Estel. "Are you all right?" he asked, brushing a lock of hair out of his brother's face.

Estel nodded, noticing tears standing in Elrohir's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Elrohir managed a smile. "You should not worry me like that...for all I knew we had been followed and you had been kidnapped again."

"I had to...he knew where Carmian was going."

"I know, but do not think this is the end of it," the elf warned. "Ada will hear of this."

Estel nodded again, frowning as he glanced back toward the path. "We have to save him."

"No, you have to go back to the village. I will do what I can."

He shook his head. "There is no time."

"I cannot put you in danger like this."

"There is no time!" Estel pulled away from his brother's touch and looked him in the eye. "You need my help."

Elrohir sighed, shaking his head. "Stay close to me," he finally replied, dropping to one knee and fishing a small dagger out of his boot. "I need you to free Legolas and get away as fast as you can."

Estel took the dagger, straightening his shoulders. "What will you do?"

"Do not worry about me...free Legolas and get to safety."

The crackle of fire filled the air, and Estel nearly gagged as the scent of burning flesh met his nose. "The body..."

"I do not think they will wait," Elrohir stood, motioning for Estel to follow him. "We can trail them through the wood."

Estel followed, ignoring the pain that was growing in his leg. Even though he knew he could not be much help to his brother in his condition, at least now he was _doing_ something instead of running or hiding like a coward.

He could only pray that Legolas could hold on for just a little while longer.

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Elrohir held a hand up, stopping Estel in his tracks. The elf lowered himself to a crouch, eyeing the underbrush around them in concern.

"What is it?" Estel finally whispered.

"I thought I heard footsteps," Elrohir murmured. They had been following Legolas' captors for nearly an hour, having had to detour several times to avoid obstacles and stay out of sight. They were finally close enough that Estel could hear Corben taunting Legolas again, but now he wondered if someone had been following them.

The elf grimaced and shook his head, focusing his gaze back on the path. "I must be hearing things."

The sharp crack of a whip whistled through the air, and Estel flinched. "Legolas..."

"Follow me," Elrohir hissed, his voice sharpening in anger. "We can no—" his voice broke off as a familiar birdcall filled the air.

Estel looked up. "Elladan?"

Elrohir did not reply, straightening up and echoing the call.

The bushes to one side parted and a cloaked figure stepped through, flipping his hood back. "Estel?"

"It is a long tale," Elrohir commented dryly, greeting his twin. "Is Palandil with you?"

"He went on ahead, following Legolas. He waits only for my signal to attack."

"How did you find us?" Estel asked.

"We found Thilator's trail through the forest. There were slight signs that Legolas was with him, so we risked following. It proved to be the right trail, thankfully."

"We have to hurry," Elrohir said. "Corben has beaten Legolas at least once...I fear the prince may be dreadfully wounded."

"Corben?"

"Yes. One of the men who followed Thilator...he killed him a ways back and has now become the leader...and he is maddened with grief."

"With grief?"

"Thilator killed his brother," Estel explained in a low voice as they made their way toward the trail, fighting to ignore the sounds of the party ahead. "I think...I believe that has made Corben all the more dangerous."

"We saw the blood," Elladan appeared relieved at his brothers' news. "I was afraid...Legolas is still alive?"

The whistle of the whip split the air again. "We must hurry," Elrohir drew his sword. "You will understand all too soon...signal Palandil!"

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Legolas bit back his cry of pain to a whimper as the sting of the whip faded slightly. He lay half-curled on the ground, but was hauled to his feet by his tunic to face Corben's furious eyes.

"I have had enough of your insolent comments!" the man roared, shaking the prince and flinging him against the trunk of a nearby tree. "After all of this...why would we listen to your promises? Do you think I am so stupid as to believe that you would truly tell your father we did nothing to you...that you would let us go free after this?"

He did not answer, but cursed himself for flinching when Corben kicked in his direction, stirring up dust from the road.

"Perhaps you should gag him," one of the men suggested.

Corben's eyes took on a sudden, dangerous glint. "No...I know of a more permanent solution."

The man backhanded Legolas again, pinning him to the tree with one hand while fishing for his knife with the other. "Hold his head, Joren."

The other man slipped around behind the tree, anchoring Legolas' head in place. The elf realized the man's intent and tried to break free, freezing with a groan as Corben's knee ground into his ribcage.

"I will keep your tongue as a trophy, Elf," Corben sneered, trying to pry Legolas' mouth open. "It will be a fine thing to stand upon my brother's grave."

Legolas flinched away as a sharp, familiar whoosh split the air near his ear, followed by Corben's piercing scream. He looked up to see the man staggering back, the shaft of an arrow buried in his shoulder.

"Do not let them take the elf!" Corben screamed as three cloaked figures broke through the underbrush.

Joren's grip shifted, and Legolas was hauled to his feet with a blade against his throat. "Tell them to cease or I will kill you," the man growled.

Legolas was growing tired of death threats. Rallying what little strength he had remaining, he slammed his head back into Joren's face, slipping down a little as the man's grip faltered.

It was not enough to work himself free, however, and he was steeling himself to meet his death when Joren suddenly jerked back with a cry of pain.

Then he was again lying on the forest floor, a familiar voice calling to him and asking him if he was all right. Legolas flinched back as a knife appeared in his line of vision, but settled when it merely slit through the ropes.

He forced his eyes to focus on the dark head in front of him. Could it be? "Estel?"

The young human looked up at the soft question, his face grim yet suspiciously tear-stained. "I have to get you away from here," he replied, finally casting aside the bloody ropes that had been binding the elf's wrists. "The twins and Palandil will take care of these men."

"Palandil?" Legolas' mind was hazy with confusion. What did the captain of his escort have to do with anything?

"Let me help you," Estel gently pulled him to a sitting position, stopping when the elf moaned in pain. "Take your time...the battle will continue for a while."

Legolas nodded, casting a glance up to see the three cloaked figures battling with the remaining men. He now recognized Elladan and Elrohir, and Palandil's distinctive style. Biting his lip, he surged to his feet with Estel's help and leaned heavily on the young human. He managed to hobble a few painful steps, stumbling and nearly falling to his knees as even his slight weight nearly proved too much for the human's injured leg.

"Just a little further," Estel murmured.

The elf grimaced, wrapping his free arm around his ribcage and stumbling another few steps.

He was suddenly knocked off his feet as Estel was shoved away, and Legolas fought to regain his balance as he was pulled back into a strangely familiar headlock. He tried to break free, but his abused body no longer had the strength to fight.

"We meet again, Prince," a voice straight from his darkest fears sneered into his ear. "May this time be our last."

Legolas' mind blanked in sudden panic.

It was Thilator.

_

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	40. III: Fear No Darkness

_Yeah...guess I should have warned you that "presumed dead" in my stories almost never means "dead". In fact, it usually means "ultra-psycho cliffhanger just waiting to happen"._

_One final warning: This may be the chapter you've been waiting for_

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Chapter Thirty-Nine: Fear No Darkness

Thilator slammed him against the ground with a dazing blow. "I see Corben has had his fun," he sneered, pressing down on one wound on the prince's back. Legolas cried out and struggled weakly, but Thilator easily rolled him over and pinned him with a knife at his throat.

"I no longer regret letting you live for so long," Thilator growled, letting his blade barely nick the younger elf's neck. "This...this is much more satisfying than slaughtering a brattish elfling when none were around to help him. Not that it would have helped," he added, his eyes menacing. "After all, your dear father and your precious family were the ones who left you in our hands...or do you really believe they were always ignorant of my sister's actions?"

Legolas refused to rise to the tutor's implication. "You lie."

Thilator roared with rage, yanking the knife away and striking Legolas across the face with the handle. "Why would I lie? After everything I have been through, why would I lie?"

The former tutor stilled for a moment, and with wide eyes Legolas saw the bleeding wound on the dark-haired elf's stomach. "Your wound..."

"What matter is my death if you are dead?" Thilator demanded, raising the knife. Legolas bucked and tried to twist away, only to scream as the blade sunk into his shoulder.

"I take no chances this time," the dark-haired elf panted, slowly twisting the blade. "I will watch the life drain out of your eyes myself."

His vision hazing with pain, Legolas could only stare up at Thilator until the elf's ice-blue eyes seemed to blur and blend with another pair. And suddenly, it seemed as though Amarthwen was staring out at him through Thilator's eyes.

Bits of memory flashed through his mind. One thousand small acts of neglect...things Amarthwen had said or done that had hurt him...years of lies...her cruel laugh as she locked him in the dungeon with a spider for company...his hidden fear in Imladris that every messenger from Mirkwood would bring her to torment him further...and that awful final moment in the palace hall when she had been shot down, killed with the dagger still upraised to murder him.

He whimpered in pain as Thilator slowly pulled the blade out, blackness flickering at the edges of his vision. It would be so easy to succumb...he was tired of fighting this shadow, tired of being beset by darkness at every turn.

The darkness was too much...his eyes seemed to close on their own and he could feel himself slipping away...

_No one knew the youngest prince had taken to sleeping with a lit candle on the table beside his bed._

_Amarthwen had been dead for nearly seven days, but he could not bring himself to sleep without the candle lit. This night, he had fallen asleep as usual but awoke in sudden terror when his room was darkened._

_Legolas could sense a strange presence beside him, and recoiled in blind fear when a hand touched his arm._

"_Legolas? What is wrong?"_

_He panicked, thrashing off the bed and landing on the floor hard enough to pain his injured arm. He saw a flicker of light, then a bright flame lit on the wick of the candle to illuminate Brithdil's concerned features. "Are you all right? Did something happen?"_

_Panting, Legolas could only shake his head, ashamed at his own cowardice._

_Brithdil seemed to sense that something else was wrong, and set the candle on the bedside table before kneeling beside the prince and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry...I came in to speak with you and when I saw that you were sleeping I thought I should extinguish the candle."_

_Shame brought a flush to the prince's cheeks, and he could not meet Brithdil's eyes._

_The captain was quiet for a moment. "Have you been sleeping with the candle lit?"_

_A single hot tear rolled down Legolas' cheek. "I have had to keep it lit since..." his voice trailed off, and he lowered his face miserably._

"_Since Amarthwen's death?" Brithdil guessed gently, pulling the younger elf close. "I do not blame you...I have had my share of dark moments and she did little to me."_

_Legolas leaned against Brithdil, heart aching at his own fear. Brithdil's presence was comforting...the captain was one of the very few who had visited him regularly in Imladris, and it would have been a cruel blow had his cowardice lost him that friendship._

"_They are only shadows, Legolas," Brithdil said, gesturing to the darkness that flickered at the edge of the candlelight. "No shadow is so strong that a single point of light cannot break it."_

"_It is so dark here," he replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Even in daylight the forest seemed dark when compared to the light he had known in Imladris. All was darkness to him in this place...oppressive darkness, overwhelming his spirit and threatening to send him back into the shadow._

_It seemed he could sense Brithdil's smile, and for a moment the captain hugged him closer. "You are dearly loved, Legolas. No matter what lies you may hear, no matter how deeply you despair, you will always be in our hearts. The world may seem dark, but keep our love close and you will have a light within you that can shatter any shadow._

"_Remember you are loved, and fear no darkness."_

Legolas' eyes snapped back open. With a sudden burst of strength, he broke free from Thilator's chokehold, pushing the older elf's chin up and away to gain leverage to roll to one side. Shunting away the pain that shot through his body, Legolas staggered to his feet and turned to face Thilator, fighting to keep upright.

He nearly stumbled, clutching his useless arm to his side as he backed away from the dark-haired elf.

Thilator roared in pain and picked himself up, one hand pressing against the bloody wound in his belly. He still held the knife, Legolas' own blood still thick on the blade, and with another roar he attacked.

Legolas met his attack, collapsing to his knees with a whimper as Thilator's full strength bore down on him. The knife was inches from his chest, and he doubled over as Thilator drove a knee into his middle.

The former tutor managed to wrestle him to his knees, twisting his good arm behind his back and placing the tip of the knife blade against Legolas' neck. "Tell them to stop and submit to the humans," Thilator growled, forcing the prince's chin up so he could see his friends still fighting Corben's men. They had noticed his predicament, but it seemed they could not break from the men they were fighting to come to his aid. He could not see Estel, though. What had happened to the young human?

"Tell them to lay down their weapons," Thilator nearly shrieked, shaking Legolas.

"I would rather die," the prince spat, stiffening as the tutor's hold changed. Thilator's knee pressed into his back, holding him immobile, and the tutor's knife slid under his chin.

"That can be arranged," the dark-haired elf hissed. "Tell them to lay down their weapons or I will...with your screams."

When Legolas still refused, Thilator drew his knife up to cut a long slash in the prince's cheek.

The blade was still against his cheek when Thilator let out a surprised-sounding gasp and half-sagged to one side. Not stopping to wonder at this sudden change of fortune, Legolas wrenched himself painfully free, fighting to twist the knife away from Thilator.

A second pair of hands joined him, and he risked a glance to see Estel. Of course...the young human had been able to knock Thilator aside enough to give Legolas a chance to escape, but the blond elf did not know if that would be enough to defeat him.

Thilator roared, releasing the knife to grab Legolas' wrist, and kicking Estel away. The prince knew not where his foe's strength came from...surely he must be nearly dead from his wound. Some madness had seized Thilator, and in that instant Legolas knew it would take nothing less than death to stop his former tutor.

A blow to his face stunned him, and in a moment he found himself on his back on the forest floor again, trying to keep Thilator's knife from slitting his throat.

"You are wounded," he managed to gasp in one last attempt to reason with the dark-haired elf. "You are dying...let us help you..."

"My death does not matter any longer," Thilator wheezed, half-collapsing against Legolas. "I ask only for the strength to see you dead."

Legolas shuddered as the knife came closer. Fighting a gasp of pain, he pushed back against Thilator's wrists with both hands, the pain tearing through his injured shoulder nauseating.

The tutor screamed in frustration, but to Legolas all the world seemed to narrow onto that blade. He bit his lip in concentration, willing his pain and fatigue away as he focused solely on turning the blade away from his neck.

Slowly the blade began to turn away from Legolas. Thilator seemed not to notice, his face clouded with fury and pain as he spat curses and oaths at the prince. The knife was half turned, the tip pointed slightly toward the dark-haired elf when Legolas felt his hands slip. He panicked, unable to keep his hold on the knife as Thilator's last reserves of strength fled.

But he had held on long enough. Thilator's dying body collapsed, burying the knife up to its hilt in his heart even as he still sought to twist the blade toward Legolas.

The elf's icy blue eyes stared vacantly into Legolas', and Thilator gave one final shudder before going terribly still, his eyes glazing over in death.

_May my death haunt you forever..._

Legolas shivered at the memory of Thilator and Amarthwen's words, then someone was shoving the tutor's body off of him.

"Legolas?" Estel was bending over him, worry written deep in his gray eyes.

Hesitant arms encircled him as Estel tried to lift him, to move him away from Thilator's body but Legolas turned away, his battered body shaking with relief mingled with an odd sort of fear. The world seemed to grow cold and spun around him, and he vaguely heard the young human calling out to his brothers in concern but all of that was fading. Released from the strain of fighting for his life, Legolas closed his eyes as his consciousness slipped away.

Thilator was dead...it was finally over.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

What's the secret to this speedy update? I was so excited to be getting to this chapter I very nearly had it finished before the last chapter was ready to post.


	41. III: The Journey Home

_Um...hi. Sorry I left the story hanging again...first I got burned-out from "Twelve Days of Fanfiction", then a lot of real-life crap hit with all the grace of a pile of wet topsoil flung against a high-speed ceiling fan, and to top it all off this is the part of the story I'm no good at._

_But we're almost there! Three or four more chapters, and we'll be home free!_

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Chapter Forty: The Journey Home

"Legolas?" Estel reached out with a trembling hand to feel for his friend's heartbeat. He sighed in relief when he found it, faint though it was.

"Estel?" Elladan dropped to his knees beside the young human. "Are you all right?"

Estel nodded, glancing up to see Elrohir and Palandil were subduing the last of the humans. "The men..."

"We will take care of them."

"Let them go."

Elladan shot a startled glance at his brother. "Let them go? Estel, they took you prisoner."

"Thilator is dead."

The dark-haired elf looked over to Thilator's body, shaking his head quietly.

"There were others, Elladan. Thilator had many followers."

Elladan turned back to Estel, his eyes frowning in disagreement. "Estel..."

"If you take them with us, we might all be in greater danger. Thilator had many followers, and we do not know if he planned on meeting up with them again at trail's end."

The elf nodded in comprehension. "You are wise beyond your years, Estel," he commented, tousling his brother's hair. "Very well...but we will not be so merciful should we meet them again."

Estel nodded, then turned his attention back to Legolas as Elladan stood to address the bandits. He barely heard Elladan speaking to the men.

Then Legolas moaned and Estel hunched over his friend, searching his face for any signs of awareness. The elf's eyes flickered, and Estel caught a glimpse of blue before the elf stilled.

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, and looked up to see Elladan carefully spreading his cloak on the ground. "Help me move him," the elf asked in a soft voice. Estel nodded, and together they rolled Legolas onto the cloak.

"Will he be all right?"

Elladan glanced up to offer a smile to his brother. "I do not know...but I do not believe he will die."

Estel swallowed in apprehension, and turned his focus back to his injured friend. Elladan had cut away the last of the filthy, bloodied scraps of the blond elf's tunic and was studying the wound in his shoulder. "My pack?"

The human scrambled to his feet, hobbling over to where Elladan had left his pack in the underbrush. At his brother's request, he dug out a waterskin and a length of clean bandage, then set out most of Elladan's healing supplies.

"Let me see your leg, Estel," Elrohir called, fetching his own pack.

"The humans?"

"They are leaving without their weapons," Elrohir replied. "Though doubtless they will attack again once they find reinforcements."

"Then we must hurry," Palandil added, dropping a handful of branches near Thilator's body. "I will carry the traitor back to Imladris. You must take the prince and make the best time you can."

"No, we know the area better than you," Elrohir argued. "One of us will take Thilator's body."

"But that is why both of you should go ahead. I will find my way. He will need both your strength," Palandil continued when the twins hesitated.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other for a moment, then Elladan slowly nodded. "Be careful."

"You as well," Palandil gave a short bow, then crossed to the other side of the path and began lacing branches together."

Estel winced as Elrohir prodded his wounded leg, his attention focused on Legolas as Elladan examined the prince's injuries. "Will he be all right?"

"You asked me that before, Estel," Elladan replied without looking up. "Infection is setting in...Elrohir?"

Elrohir nodded in reply to his brother's unspoken question. "You are lucky, Estel. Walking has not helped your injury, but it has not made it much worse either. I believe Ada will lock you in your room for two weeks instead of three."

Estel grimaced in exasperation. "Elrohir."

"Peace," the elf held one hand up. "I am finished. Rest for a moment, Estel."

The young human scooted back, but kept watching his brothers tend to Legolas. Elladan had cleaned the wound on the blond elf's shoulder and was stitching it closed while Elrohir gently probed his bruises for further injuries.

"There is not much else we can do here," Elladan sighed, rocking back on his heels and wiping his hands on a piece of rag.

"We must get him home as quickly as possible," Elrohir agreed.

"Not to the village?" Estel broke in. The village was closer...they could be there in a matter of hours.

"No. His wounds require more aid...and I believe we will need Ada's help."

Elladan nodded. "Help me wrap up his back," he asked, pulling the unconscious elf up to a sitting position.

Estel nearly turned away, sickened at the sight of his friend's wounds. Legolas' back was a mess of bruises, blood, and broken skin...inflamed and painful-looking. He swallowed, and forced himself to study more closely.

It was bad...but not as bad as he had imagined it. The wounds themselves would heal quickly once free of infection, but he knew his brothers' concern was that the infection would worsen the longer they were from home.

Elrohir gently applied some healing salve to their friend's wounds and wrapped Legolas in several layers of bandages. "His back is hot to the touch," he murmured, a note of concern in his voice.

"We must hurry," Elladan replied, wrapping his cloak around Legolas and lifting him easily. "Can you walk, Estel?" he asked, shifting the prince until the blond elf's head rested against his shoulder.

"I will manage."

"No, save your strength," Elrohir shook his head. "I can carry you."

"I do not wish to be a burden," Estel protested. "I will manage."

"You are no burden," Elrohir replied, crouching down to let Estel climb onto his back. "It will be faster this way."

Estel sighed, looping his arms around his brother's neck. There were times he hated being reminded that he was only human among his brothers. He winced as Elrohir shifted him higher, struggling to keep hold of his brother's pack as Palandil helped him pull it on.

"Let me know if I hurt you," Elrohir asked as he followed Elladan down the trail.

The young man twisted back for a moment to watch Palandil's tall figure, then turned his focus back to the dark-haired elf before him.

They would make it. They had to.

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Palandil watched the others leave, hesitating for a moment alone in the path. Then he turned, striding swiftly to Thilator's body and rolling the traitor over.

He stared into the vacant eyes of the elf who had caused the royal family so much trouble. "Whose hand pushed you to this?"

No one had forgotten the twins and Brithdil's supposition that there had to be a third member of the conspiracy...his king had hoped for centuries that perhaps Thilator could be taken alive and the root of this treachery unearthed.

"We will find him," he said aloud, though none alive could hear him. "I swear it. I will not let this happen a third time."

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The steady beat of a heart was the first thing Legolas heard as his mind struggled back to consciousness even as he wished he could sink back into the darkness. Burning pain lanced across his back, and the world seemed to swirl and rock beneath him.

He could vaguely hear voices, and tried to press them out of his mind as the rocking stopped.

"_Legolas?_"

Someone was calling him...someone was turning his head, trying to force him to open his eyes.

The tip of a waterskin touched his lips, and one of the voices called to him to drink. He could barely hear the words, could only catch some of what the voice was saying

"_It will help you...you remember my brother? He made it for you...drink, Legolas..."_

_My brother's own homemade brew. He used to say it would make any boy into a man...let's see if it will keep you on your feet._

Legolas cried out and struggled against the hands holding him. He did not know if Corben's voice was merely within his head or if the man had gotten hold of him again, but he would not drink.

The waterskin fell away, and the voices changed to alarm and surprise. They were trying to subdue him, and he was weakening under their attack. He flailed out, managing to hit one of his captors.

Someone grabbed his wrists to hold his arms down. A pain-filled scream pushed itself out of his throat, though he tried to hold it in.

"Let him go! Please, can't you see he doesn't know you?" The third voice was clear and familiar somehow. Comforting, almost.

The hands holding his wrists fell away. He fought against the arms holding him, feeling inexplicably trapped.

"Let him down, Elladan...let him go."

Elladan?

Legolas stilled as he felt himself lowered, the odd restriction around his body falling away as he lay on rough ground. He fought for breath, jolting in surprise when someone gently took his hand.

"Legolas?"

He forced his eyes open, squinting against the rising son. Worried gray eyes, oddly old in a young face, studied him. "E-estel?"

"You're safe. Elladan and Elrohir are here. We're only trying to help you."

Of course. Elladan and Elrohir. "Corben?"

"He is gone. We're going home."

He relaxed against the path, closing his eyes in relief. "Forgive me."

"No, forgive me, my friend," Elrohir knelt before him, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "I should not have tried to make you drink before you were fully awake."

Legolas nodded, gasping a little in pain as someone helped him sit up. Elladan, he realized. "Where is Palandil?"

The three dark-haired beings hesitated. "He is following a little behind," Elrohir finally answered.

He could tell the brothers were hiding something from him, but had not the strength to answer. "How much farther?"

"We should be there before dawn tomorrow," Elladan said as Elrohir held up the waterskin for Legolas to drink. "Unless we are found by some of Ada's scouts, which is likely as we were only supposed to be gone for three hours."

Legolas nodded, resting back against Elladan in an effort to rally his strength.

"How long have we been gone?" he heard Estel ask.

"By your own story, you were taken captive yesterday morning."

Estel huffed out a sigh. "Only one day? It seems as though we have been gone nearly a year."

Legolas had to smile at his friend's comment. He was exhausted, though, and felt sleep beckoning even as Elladan gently lifted him up again. Now the sound of his friend's heartbeat was comforting, and even the pain dancing through his back was bearable.

Something was bothering him in the back of his mind, but it slipped away before he could grasp it. It did not matter. If it was important, he would remember it when he awoke.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_Trivia time! Estel's comment: "Only a day? It seems as though we have been gone nearly a year" is in reference to my recent lack of updates...the chapter in which Estel and Legolas were captured was posted last May. Yikes._

_Don't worry (or maybe you should), we haven't seen the last of Corben. This would be too anticlimactic for me...but his main part in this story's over. His future importance will make sense soon, though._


	42. III: One Last Obstacle

_AN: Small reference to _The Hobbit_ in here. No spoiler, but it's something you'll get if you've read the book._

_Yay! Something finally goes right in this chapter! _

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Chapter Forty-One: One Last Obstacle 

Estel sat back against the tree with a sigh of relief. His brothers had stopped for a moment's rest, and were standing on one side of the path deep in discussion.

He glanced over to where his friend lay, still deeply asleep thanks to Elrohir's tonic. It was hard to believe that just the day before he'd been trying to convince his father to let them go riding. If he had known what that trip would bring...

The wind was picking up, he noticed with a shiver. Though the valley was protected from extreme weather, whether by design or some other force, Estel had seen enough of the surrounding lands to be concerned. The wind was sharp and cold, and smelled of rain.

"Estel?" Elladan's voice pulled the young human out of his thoughts, and he looked up as his brothers approached. "We've made a decision. Elrohir is going to take you to the inn in the village while I continue home with Legolas."

"Why?" Estel blurted out, looking from one brother to the other. "I thought we agreed we shouldn't split up?"

"The wind has changed," the older twin explained.

"It would seem a storm is approaching from the West," Elrohir continued. "It is far enough out that it could still pass us by, but if it does not..."

"It will break upon us in a few hours," Elladan finished. "You and Elrohir can wait out the storm in the village. I will make as fast as I can for home."

"No," Estel shook his head. "We're going together."

"And what if the rain catches us?" Elladan retorted. "You are not an elf, Estel. You could become ill."

Estel waved his brothers' concern aside. "And what if Corben's men catch you?" he asked Elladan. "You don't know if any stayed behind. What if they take you both and..." he swallowed, his gaze turning to Legolas' sleeping form.

The twins were silent for a moment, communicating through looks as though they could read each other's thoughts. He could tell they were hesitant.

"In any case," Estel broke in with a smile, "Elrohir has already supposed that Ada will lock me in my room for at least two weeks. It would be no worse if I should fall ill."

Elrohir smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "Very well," he finally agreed, nodding with his twin. "We must hurry, if we wish to beat the storm."

Estel clamored back onto his brother's back and watched as Elladan carefully lifted the sleeping elf, cradling Legolas' head against his shoulder.

They were off again, each step taking them closer to home.

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"We must find them," Corben growled, pounding his fist into the ground.

"You are wounded, Corben. You have to rest."

"They will be slow," Corben argued as Jorek tried to tend to his wounds. "They have the wounded and the dead to carry. They will be helpless against us."

Jorek sighed and shook his head. "It is not a good idea."

"I will not have my brother go unavenged."

The other man sat back, his frustration clear in his silence. "And if they kill you?"

"They will not."

"We have our own wounded to care for, our own dead to bury. Can we not wait for another chance?"

Corben sneered, pulling his arm away. "Are you a coward, Jorek?"

Jorek shook his head again. "At least consider it," he retorted, pushing himself up to his feet and returning to the rest of the camp.

The bandits' leader snorted in Jorek's direction, turning his gaze back to the knife in his hand. His fingers tightened over the handle as his brother's face entered his mind. No matter what it might take, he would avenge his brother.

He did not notice the slight whisper of motion behind him, nor was he aware of another presence until his good arm was pulled back in an unbreakable grip and a knife placed against his throat.

Corben glanced up and barely caught a glimpse of a hooded figure, glittering eyes hidden deep within the hood. "Do not move."

Corben swallowed as the knife's blade barely nicked his skin. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"You do not know?" his captor's voice sounded amused.

"No."

"I am sworn to serve my master with my life or death. I was sent as companion of our prince to ferret out the traitor to our realm...the traitor whose life you ended. Be grateful that I have chosen to show you mercy, for none save my king know my true purpose here."

"But who are you?"

"My name is unimportant. But understand that I am the least among my discipline...there are two others beside myself and they are even closer to the king than I."

"If you are so great," Corben rallied some of his remaining bravado, "then why have we never heard of you?"

"It is part of my duty that none but the dead should know of me. Mine is the last face you see, the last voice you hear, and to taste of my blade is to know death."

"You're going to kill me?"

"If I were, you would be dead already. I am here only to warn you."

"Against what?" Corben quieted as the blade nicked closer.

"Gather your people and flee. Leave this place and never return, for I will not be merciful should we meet again."

"But you are only one elf," he dared to comment, risking to guess that his foe was an elf.

"Would you like me to prove my boast?" the elf challenged, his voice dangerously soft. "Tell your people. My memory is long and my hearing keen...I will know if you return. If I hear rumor of your presence near this place no corner of Arda will hide you. I will find you wherever you flee."

Corben swallowed in apprehension. "What proof do I have that you are speaking the truth?" he managed to ask.

In reply, a small brooch was tossed to his feet. Corben's eyes widened as he recognized the brooch Thilator had worn on his cloak. "It is not so simple to move my people," he replied, hoping to buy some extension of time from this foe. It was one elf to be sure, but something in the elf's voice sent a cold chill down his spine.

"That is none of my concern."

The sheer callousness of the elf's voice chilled Corben anew. "We will leave, but we must have time."

"Do not try to trick me. I will know, Corben. I will be watching."

The pressure suddenly lifted from his neck, and he whirled around to find his captor. He was too late, the elf had melted into the shadows of the forest.

A strange chill ran down Corben's spine. He could feel eyes in every shadow. Suddenly, vengeance did not seem like such a good idea. But perhaps another day...perhaps the day might come when one of his family could avenge Carmian's death.

For the present, there were plenty of farms to the West. His people could find a living there...one way or another.

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"Here! I've found shelter!"

Elladan glanced up, blinking against the driving rain, as Elrohir called from the side of the path. "What is it?"

"A shallow cave...more of an overhang. It's not very deep, but it is dry."

"Tell me you carefully explored it?" Elladan muttered, following his brother. He heard Estel chuckle beside him and smiled...clearly the young human remembered the stories that halfling had told about the orcs in the Misty Mountains.

They were only a few hours from Imladris, but the rain had slowed them down. Estel's limp had grown more pronounced as he struggled through the terrain, and Elladan was concerned that Legolas might worsen if forced to endure the weather much longer. The prince was still unconscious, though he had stirred a few times and nearly awoken once.

Legolas was, however, still feverish, and though Elladan loathed any delay at getting his friend treatment they needed to find shelter.

"It's a cave," Elladan groused, gently setting Legolas back into what seemed to be a dry corner.

"Sit down, Estel," Elrohir pulled his brother down beside him, frowning a little. "I believe you are soaked clear through, Estel."

The young human tried to pull away from his brother. "I will be fine."

Elladan sat on the floor of the cave, shaking water droplets out of his long hair. "If it had not rained so much we might build a fire."

His twin sighed, leaning back against the back wall. "How long should we wait?"

All were silent for a moment. Elladan grimaced, shaking his head a bit, and climbed to his feet. "If I do not return before the rain stops, follow after me."

"Elladan."

"No, listen to me," Elladan held up a hand to cut off his twin's protest. "One of us can make it home faster on foot."

A silent moment passed, and Elrohir slowly nodded. Elladan was relieved that his twin did not protest further. They were about equally matched as runners, so any argument would have only wasted precious time. "Be careful."

Elladan nodded once to his twin's words, and bolted back into the driving rain.

The wind whipped his hair about, and he grimaced as cold drops made their way down the back of his tunic. His cloak was still wrapped around Legolas, though he doubted it would have been any good now.

He dodged around a tree, following the now-familiar trail back home. Knowing his father, there should be a patrol combing the path for any sign of the missing elves and human. If he could find the patrol he could lead them back to the cave...and get them all to safety before something worse happened.

Time seemed to pass out of meaning as he ran, though fatigue had no hold on him. He could not tell if it had been days or minutes when he finally rounded a bend to see an elf in the garb of the guard of Imladris.

"Lord Elladan," the surprised captain fumbled into a bow, glancing behind Elladan to see who was behind him. "Are you alone?"

Elladan shook his head, nearly breathless with relief. "My brothers and the prince...they have sought shelter some ways back. Come, I will lead you to them."

To his credit, the captain simply nodded and called for the horses. He ordered a handful of elves back on foot to alert Lord Elrond, and gave command over to Elladan.

It wouldn't be long now, Elladan thought, before they were safely home again.

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Elrond was waiting just inside the house as the patrol rode up. Used to critiquing his sons' appearances, he was relieved that Elladan and Elrohir appeared uninjured. The twins dismounted as gracefully as though they had just been riding for pleasure rather than riding through the rain with injured comrades.

He frowned slightly when he saw Elrohir helping Estel down. His foster-son was limping, and Elrond thought he could see blood soaking through the bandages on one of Estel's legs.

But Legolas...he sighed gravely when he saw the patrol captain hand the elf-prince down to Elladan. It should have been no surprise that Thranduil's son had been injured, but Elrond had hoped that Legolas could have avoided serious injury this time.

He stepped out onto the porch, meeting his sons' eyes with a tight smile. He knew the twins could read the truth in his eyes...the relief mingled with concern.

"Ada!"

A true smile spread across his face as Estel embraced him. For all that his youngest son was growing up, Estel was still a child in some ways. "Are you all right?" he asked, crouching a little to be at eye level with the young human.

Estel nodded, his eyes troubled.

"He saw it happen."

Elrond flinched inwardly at Elrohir's quiet words. He could not doubt that Legolas had faced some kind of torment at his captors' hands, but for Estel to have witnessed it... "Where is Palandil?"

"He was behind us, bringing Thilator's body."

"Thilator?" Elrond frowned, rising to his full height and placing one arm around Estel.

Elrohir nodded. "I will explain later."

The elf-lord sighed in agreement, turning his focus to the unconscious elf in his other son's arms. "Legolas?"

"We could do little for him," Elladan explained softly. "His wounds are extensive."

"I see." Elrond peeled away a corner of the cloak Legolas had been wrapped in to study the blond elf's face. A bruise darkened his cheekbone, the skin beneath pale. "I will do what I can."

Estel wrapped his arm around his father's waist, leaning against Elrond more for comfort, the elf-lord suspected, than for support. "You'll heal him."

He couldn't help but smile. Estel's faith in him was unshakable, it seemed. He hoped that this would not be the time that broke his son's trust.

_

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Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers? _

_AN: So...has anyone figured out Corben's connection to one of my other stories?_


	43. III: A Mother's Heart

_AN: Look! Something distracting! (frantically posts new chapter while readers are distracted) Hello! What, me? I've been here all this time. Yeah, haven't you seen all the new chapters, and certainly no three-month delays between updating? Don't believe me? Well, fine! I'll just take everything down and start again at chapter forty-two. _

_All right...this chapter has some medical stuff...nothing worse than anything mentioned in the story so far, though. But I thought I'd warn you, just in case you've been keeping an eye on it. (It's also a little rough and cheesey, but unless you want to wait another few weeks it's the best I can get it right now. I hope to revise it and get it up to snuff in the near future.)_

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Chapter Forty-Two: A Mother's Heart

Gilraen easily slipped through the long hall, dodging between parties of elves. She'd heard of her son's return from a servant, but had been told he'd been taken to one of the healing rooms along with the visiting prince. Few of the elves noticed her passing, and the handful that did merely nodded to her.

That alone made the knot of anxiety in her chest ease somewhat. Surely if Estel had been seriously injured someone would have tried to warn her, tried to keep her away or break the news to her gently.

"Lady Gilraen?"

She nearly collapsed in relief when Emyntur found her, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. "Do you know anything?" she demanded.

"Your son was injured, but not badly," the elf replied, guiding her through the gathering throng toward the healing rooms. "Lord Elrond sent me to fetch you."

_Why_? The question died on Gilraen's tongue as they reached a locked door. Emyntur knocked on it, calling out to the elf inside that he had brought the boy's mother.

The door opened slightly, and Elladan ushered Gilraen in.

"Nana!"

Gilraen's eyes found her son, stretched out on a bed on the far side of the room, and she was beside him in a moment. "Estel," she murmured, gently smoothing a strand of hair back from his forehead. "You gave me quite a scare, little one."

"It wasn't our fault, Nana. They came out of nowhere...we tried to escape."

"I know," she replied quietly, squeezing his hand. "Are you truly all right?"

He nodded, blinking back sudden tears as he looked across the room. "Legolas..."

Gilraen sighed and turned to follow her son's gaze. Lord Elrond and his sons were huddled around another bed, and she could just make out the blond hair of the visiting elf-prince. "He will be fine," she finally said, straightening up to sit on the edge of the bed next to Estel. "He's in the best hands."

"I know...Ada is the best healer...but, Nana..."

"He will be fine," she repeated, taking his hand again. Gilraen managed a smile as she let her gaze travel over her son's body. Estel was filthy, save for his right leg. A white bandage encircled his thigh, just above the knee. Dark circles under his young eyes attested to his exhaustion—he badly needed sleep.

Gilraen glanced back up to the three elves in the corner. Just how had her son been injured? And why had no one come to fetch her the moment they heard of his return? How could this have happened?

"Nana?"

She looked down, smiling a little at the concern in her son's gaze. "Just rest, Estel," she murmured, leaning forward to place a kiss against his forehead. "I will wake you as soon as Lord Elrond is finished."

The boy seemed to relax a bit, sinking deeper into the pillows. "Promise?"

"Of course. Now rest." Her voice was strangely calm, though her emotions were anything but. A piece of her wanted to grab Elrond by the collar—elf-lord or not—and shake him until he explained just how this could have happened to her son. But her questions would have to wait for later...until he was finished with both patients.

She glanced back at Estel as he tried to stay awake, and slid a little closer to him. Stroking his hair back with one hand, Gilraen softly began to sing an old lullaby, one that had always put Estel to sleep as an infant. It had never failed to comfort him, and in a few moments he had fallen fast asleep.

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Elrond barely noticed Gilraen's entry. Estel's wound had been cared for—it would heal easily, with no complications, thanks to Elrohir's treatments.

But his focus was on the injured prince. He had sent for a tub of heated water, laced it with herbs, and begun the grim task of cleaning the grime and blood off the young elf's body.

Elladan and Elrohir had not seen all that their friend had faced, but they told their father what they did know. Legolas had been beaten and whipped, and had killed Thilator. Never mind that it had been in self-defense...never mind that the dark elf had already been dying...they all knew that would greatly affect the younger elf's mind.

Elrond carefully examined the patient as they worked. His face was badly bruised, a long, jagged cut tracing down one cheek. His neck was nicked in several places just under his chin, no doubt from having a knife pressed against his throat.

Legolas' wrists were also badly torn—one look and Elrond could see where coarse rope had torn the prince's skin. His arms were bruised and scraped from being pulled and thrown about, five finger-shaped bruises decorating one arm near the shoulder.

Then came the arduous task of unwrapping the bandages from the prince's body. His sons had explained that there had not been time to properly dress their friend's wounds—what had been done had been to hopefully forestall any further infection.

He grimaced. He could feel the heat radiating off the young elf's back even through the bandages. A quick examination proved most of the wounds to be less serious than they looked—most of them went no deeper than Legolas' skin, though several sliced into the muscle. It was the infection and spread of the damage that was the true concern.

Lord Elrond frowned. Infection had set on terribly quick for an elf...granted, an open, bleeding wound untended in the wild was crying for trouble, but after only a day Legolas should not have been this affected.

Unless...he dropped his head with a sigh. The prince had already been taxed by the trouble with his brother and the journey to Rivendell. It was just terrible coincidence that he and Estel had been captured then, before Legolas had been able to regain his full strength of spirit. That and memories triggered by Thilator's presence had doubtlessly added to the young elf's difficulties.

"Ada?"

He glanced up, meeting the twin gazes of his sons. He nodded to them, slipping up toward the head of the bed to kneel near Legolas' head.

The prince twitched when Elladan and Elrohir began cleaning his back. Elrond gently captured the young elf's free hand, murmuring softly to him to send his mind back to its unconscious state.

Legolas moaned, and Elrond half-rose to study his sons' actions. His heart ached in sympathy for the young elf...it seemed there was hardly a spot left untouched. Angry welts crisscrossed over ugly bruises, as though the man who had inflicted these had only cared about causing pain.

Some of the wounds were bleeding freely now that they had been cleaned. Elrond withheld another sigh. It was difficult to judge how long it would take the young elf to recover his strength, but he could not help but feel that Legolas' stay would be longer than expected. He would not be surprised if the prince was with them until Spring.

"A-ada?"

Elrond started, turning his attention back to the prince beside him. Bleary blue eyes were barely cracked open, then closed.

"Your father is not here," he said quietly, kneeling near the young elf's head again. "You are safe in Rivendell."

A tear slipped down the pale cheek. "Estel?"

He smiled at the faint whisper. "Estel is fine. He is resting across the room."

A cup appeared at Elrond's elbow, and he looked up to thank Elladan. "I need you to drink this, Legolas," he murmured, trying to lift the prince's head enough for him to drink.

Legolas gave a small whimper of pain, his body stiffening as the twins slowly eased him up to a sitting position. Elrond seethed inwardly as he once again caught sight of the bruises and cuts that lanced across the younger elf's stomach and chest. "Drink," he murmured again as he held the cup to his patient's lips, smiling a little as the prince obeyed.

He pulled the empty cup away, resting one hand on the blond elf's face and studying his eyes. His heart nearly broke at the pain he saw there—pain more emotional than physical. Thilator's treachery had struck deep...he could see its effects like a poison in the prince's mind.

The young elf's eyes closed as his consciousness faded, and Elladan slowly lowered him back onto the bed.

Elrond stood with another sigh, looking up to a point beyond his sons.

"Ada? Is something wrong?"

Looking back at Elrohir's concerned face, the elf-lord managed a small smile. "No. Continue, please. He will need your strength."

His sons exchanged incredulous looks, but returned to the task of treating their friend. They would understand all too soon. If Legolas fell to despair while so desperately wounded, there would be little they could do to heal him.

But there was always hope.

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Estel was still sleeping when Elrond ushered his older sons out of the room. The elf-lord paused for a moment, studying Gilraen, and slowly crossed the room to her side.

"It was not my intention that you be kept from your son for so long," he murmured, brushing back a lock of Estel's hair fondly.

"I understand," Gilraen replied, swallowing back her argument for moment. While it was clear that that might not have been the elf-lord's intent, it was also clear to her that it had been within his power to notify her immediately. "Is he...will Legolas recover?"

Elrond paused for a heartbeat. ""

"I told Estel I would wake him..."

"Let them sleep," Elrond interrupted, holding a hand out to her. "Legolas will not wake for some hours. Let Estel rest while he can."

She rose and followed him across the room, pausing at the end of the elf-prince's bed. "Again he has saved my son. I owe him a debt I can never repay."

"Yes," the elf-lord agreed. "The race of men owes him a far greater debt than you or I."

Only a mother's patience kept Gilraen from replying sharply. "Can you not forget his heritage for one moment, and look upon this with a father's eyes?" she asked softly. "Even were he to never fulfill his destiny...were he to remain Estel forever, the debt would be greater than I could pay."

She did not wait for Elrond's answer, and slipped out of the room. Again weaving through the gathered elves, she slowly made her way back to her chambers.

In just a few short years Estel would be grown...he would leave her to seek his fortunes in the world of men. But for now, for a little while longer, he could simply be her Estel.

And that was all she wanted—her Estel, for just a little while longer.

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Voices threatened to pull him out of the comfort of sleep. He knew them...though he could not remember how. He heard Estel's name, though his mind could not follow the conversation.

The voices receded, leaving him in silence. The last thing he remembered clearly was a clearing in the forest. He had been fighting someone, struggling. He remembered pain...and a pair of pale blue eyes.

Legolas gave a little gasp of pain as he remembered. Thilator. Thilator was dead...and he was a murderer.

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Elrond sank into the chair behind his desk, resting his head in one hand. Tending to the prince's wounds had taken longer than he'd anticipated, and then he had had to answer the concerns of the elves he found waiting in the hall.

And Gilraen accused him of callousness toward his foster-son. Could he not love Estel as his son and still bear in mind the young human's great destiny?

"My Lord?"

Lost in his thoughts, he had not heard the elf's approach. He looked up wearily, eyeing the nervous guard facing him. "Yes?"

"A party of elves is approaching from the mountain pass. We have word that their captain wishes to speak with you."

The elf-lord fought back a sigh, slowly standing up. It would take several hours for the party to reach Imladris, but there were still many preparations to be made. "Do you know how many?"

"Thalion thought he saw two dozen, though they appeared to have extra horses."

"Very well," Elrond nodded. "Inform the cook we are expecting added company for dinner," he commanded, striding out of the room intent on tracking down his sons to warn them about the impending visitors.

"One more thing..." the guard called after him. "The colors..."

Elrond turned, curious. "The colors?"

The guard swallowed, clearly not knowing whether he was presenting good or bad news. "The elves bear the colors of Mirkwood, Lord Elrond. They're from the king."

_

* * *

_

_What's that, Brosia? We're close to the end so why not leave a little, tiny cliffie? Oh, all right...if you insist. Hey, don't blame me, blame my cat! It was her idea._

_Whew! Let me tell you...this chapter has been the albatross around my neck for the last five weeks! Because, honestly, that's how long it's taken to write. Yep, I got back into trying to update over a month ago...this monster was just being that difficult._


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